


we'll get together then

by haywoodyablowme



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Blow Job, Kepler and jacobi are? mirrors, M/M, Minor Character Death, NSFW, Riding, Trans Daniel Jacobi, face fucking, fake marriage au, it's not important to the story, its important to me, oh man, pre hephaestus, sex happens, the violence isn't too graphic, trans alana maxwell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-06 19:42:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haywoodyablowme/pseuds/haywoodyablowme
Summary: Pryce and Cutter don't take well to competition. It's a good thing that they have a black-ops agency to keep their agenda in the green and their books in the black. It's a bad thing that these people are- people. Unreliable and messy to their very cores. They come with flaws that cannot be ironed out but- so long as the job gets done- it doesn't matter, does it?





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> sooo this is my first go at a multi chapter piece please, leave your thoughts in the comments! i love feedback!!

Jacobi didn’t anticipate being woken up at five am this morning, even if he does work with the human embodiment of protocol-- is it too much to ask for a few more minutes actually sleeping after the crack of dawn? It also didn’t help that once he was awake, Kepler had more than a word to say about Jacobi’s apartment and it’s conditions. It’s not his home to police, or, make Jacobi clean. It’s almost as if the adrenaline drop from doing laundry with a gun to his head would be exhausting. It took- four hours to clean then another half hour to get in the shower and make some pseudo breakfast as commanded by his superior officer.

At this point in the car ride- he physically can’t pay attention to what Kepler’s saying, nodding along and humming a ‘Mhmm,’ or ‘Yes, sir,’ every so often as he nurses his coffee in his passenger seat.

“--the prime minister then said he’d bet that if I could catch a pigeon with my bare hands, he’d pay me-” Kepler kept on with a straight face, the lilt in his voice coupled with the slight smile in his voice but not on his face, droning on and glancing sideways at his companion who- perks up and looks a little confused at the statement.

“A pigeon- i thought you said pheasant,” Jacobi blinks in a rapid succession and looks from his window to his superior.

“Just making sure you’re listening, Jacobi.” Kepler hums, the grin evident even in his voice. Jacobi sighs- tries to keep it under his breath and rolls his eyes.

“I’m listening, sir,” He grumbles, somewhat indignantly as he takes another sip.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that attitude, Mr. Jacobi.” Kepler’s a little curt- but he always is when he wants to nitpick rules and regulations. It’s nothing serious and they both know it, even if rule eight of the SI-5 handbook gives Kepler full permission to pull his ‘no complaints’ spiel.

“Yes sir,” Jacobi goes back to looking out the window. He’s already kicked off his shoes, curling in on himself with his knees to his chest and an arm on his door, that hand mindlessly massaging his scalp and the other holding his coffee like it holds his life-force. Kepler grins just a bit when he glances over at Jacobi, it could be passed off as a show of his consistent positivity or, a mild show of pride at how he’s got Jacobi listening to his every word.

His story continues- no matter how alien or reckless, Jacobi still nods along, and Kepler talks. Every so often Jacobi interjects with a less than excited ‘You don’t say,’ or a shocked gasp that’s bland and uninterested. For a while- Jacobi doesn’t really register where he’s going- takes the shopping centers at. This next mission really is a doozy, it’s not complex- they never really are when you break them down. It’s just- high pressure.

No one would really blame Jacobi for- dozing off in the car. I mean it’s barely been ten minutes since he was forced into the shower and dragged from the warm, loving embrace of his bed. But alas- this car ride doesn’t have the fortune of lasting long enough for a nap. Kepler ends up parking, taking the keys out of the ignition and opening his door, the exact moment that Jacobi’s body settles in for a nap. Great.

“We don’t have all day, Mr. Jacobi,” His voice is a little too chipper and almost sing-song. There really is no god, is there? “You can’t just sit here and nap and have me do all the hard work,” He steps out of the car and his voice trails off a little as he closes his door and walks around the vehicle. Jacobi groans and adjusts himself, stretches his legs out in front of him and yawns, slips his shoes back on and unclips his seatbelt. Kepler- the gentleman he is, opens the door with that sly grin, and just over his shoulder, is the sign for a Saxons. Of all places- a jewelry store.

Jacobi’s eyes must bug out of his head at this realization- because this, of all things, prompts Kepler to cock his head to the side like he’s the one who’s being blindsided. Not Jacobi.

“What the hell are we doing at a jewelry store-?” Jacobi almost glares at Kepler, nothing too aggressive, more defensive.

“Oh- we have an appointment, Daniel,” Kepler practically purrs, and Jacobi feels a chill run up his spine.

“Why-” He starts but is cut off by Kepler taking him by his hand and leading him out of his cadillac. Jacobi’s still in a mild state of shock from Kepler using his first name in a casual conversation.

“You’ll see in a few moments, just, follow my lead, you can do that, right?” Kepler’s cheshire grin is almost sickening, it makes Jacobi’s stomach churn and his heart race in- pleasantly unpleasant ways. It’s not the most ideal situation, but here he is, following Kepler’s lead- again.

He doesn’t think much of it at first- Kepler holding his hand that is. It’s not tight and overbearing- his hand is, much bigger, but it’s a gentle lead. The twenty seconds from car to front door is enough time to sow suspicion in Jacobi’s mind. What in the goddamn does he have planned now? The sales associate nearest to the door perks up when they enter the building.

“Anything I can do for you today?” She chimes in an overly chipper voice. Some part of Jacobi empathizes or- sympathizes. Working with people is exhausting and- she has to do it all day.

“Why- there is, you see,” Kepler starts and, his hand releases Jacobi’s and he almost sighs with relief. Then his arm curls around his shoulders and Jacobi’s heart skips a beat. He doesn’t show the emotion- just takes a sip of his coffee. He can’t feel this kind of way about his commanding officer but- it’s increasingly harder with this increasing proximity. “My husband,” he squeezes Jacobi’s shoulders and he almost blushes, “was mugged, and needs a new ring- one for each of us,” the sales associate coos, “decided we wanna match this time around,” Kepler smiles- it’s almost sanitized and too wholesome for Jacobi’s liking. He’d rather he go back to the devilish, vocal grin. He’s used to that, not this.

Jacobi sheepishly smiles, doesn’t really say anything, seems a little embarrassed by the whole situation, and he just, shrugs. Not exactly curls in on himself, but, just makes himself seem a bit smaller. He looks between Kepler and the associate and grins. Somewhat blindsided and, honestly- a little more than pissed that he wasn’t warned before this happened. But that has to wait for the next leg of this car ride.

He’s lead away by the sales associate who greeted the two of them- who’s frankly a little too excited for his liking to help them with this- she must be single and dreaming of a wedding. It’s not- annoying or malicious, it’s just- a strong indication of what’s to come. And he’s not exactly a fan of that enthusiasm this early in the morning- even if it is, ten am.

Kepler is quickly flanked by another associate, he’s asking about their relationship and what ring sizes the two of them are. He’s caught up in this casual conversation, recalling how they met- where they honeymooned, even going so far as to show pictures. Jacobi only really knows because for some god forsaken reason Kepler still has pictures of- the duck incident. He could strangle him right now. Just squeeze until he stopped-

“Sir?” The associate asks with a coy grin. She caught him, looking at Kepler for an extended period of time with an unreadable expression so- of course she saw that as him looking at his boss with some ungodly amount of love and adoration. Fantastic! God really has abandoned him! “Are you alright?” There’s a bubbly quality to her voice- like she could burst into giggles if he said the wrong thing.

“Yeah- fine,” Jacobi weakly grins as he hears the other sales associate burst into laughter at what he can assume is one of the many blurry photos of himself running from a canadian goose. Jacobi’s grin drops and he sighs heavy- as if the weight of the world is sitting on his chest. “Excuse me-?” The girl nods and Jacobi cranes his head to look at Kepler and raises his voice. “Warren-” Oh that feels weird in his mouth, “I thought you deleted those pictures!” He plays up how he sounds- less fury and more a playful whine to his voice.

“Sorry, darling-” Kepler laughs, god Jacobi hates that laugh. He could drown in it.

“Yeah yeah,” Jacobi huffs and turns his attention back to the sales girl, rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to her. “He can be an ass sometimes,” He mutters and she hums in agreement.

“I’m sure he doesn’t mean it- maliciously,” She’s sincere, and tries to sound reassuring and Jacobi smiles at it. She’s sweet and means well- shows him all the rings that she thinks he’d like, all simple designs and matte or brushed metal. It’s a nice gesture- and she could read the two of them well enough. She gives him feedback on the metals and how they were made and answers all his questions no matter how big or small. She’s nice enough but her face doesn’t betray the stealth Kepler has and smiles at the vague surprise on Jacobi’s face when Kepler’s hand claps down on his shoulder. He even shivers at the gesture and looks vaguely surprised at the man behind him.

“How’s it going over here?” Kepler’s voice has this velvet quality that- normally, infuriates Jacobi, but right now it just wells up these- confusing emotions that swirl together and make Jacobi want to act out in every way he can think of. Instead he has a tight lipped smile, and looks up at Kepler, kisses his cheek and purrs in his ear in the most sickly sweet voice he can muster: swimmingly. Kepler doesn’t falter- not visibly, something rises inside of him and he’d be a liar if he didn’t have the impulse to kiss Jacobi full on the lips and turn the table on him. But he can’t do that quite yet- he does need some cards to stay close to his chest.

The sales associates share a look and Jacobi nestles himself against Kepler’s chest. It’s not his best moment- it makes his heart soar and really, he can sense the talking to he’s going to get in the car from a mile away. But it’s worth it to feel Kepler tense for half a second against him. Feels good to know he can cause some kind of reaction that isn’t humiliating to himself. Or detrimental to his health in any manner of the sort.

Kepler clears his throat and rubs his hand up and down Jacobi’s arm- keeps up some ryhthm for comfort, and looks at the rings in front of Jacobi. He’s practically a mind reader, before Kepler can even utter the question on his mind, Jacobi points to a ring- brush metal tungsten with an inner lining of rose gold that spills onto the outer rim of the ring. It’s tasteful- simple and pretty and- Kepler, truth be told, is impressed. So Jacobi- for all his grungy clothes and, lack of personal taste, can appreciate beauty. Nice to know.

“I think that one- that’s what I want,” Jacobi hums, tapping his fingers on his empty coffee cup and looking at the sales associate. She looks to Kepler who nods in approval- it is whatever Jacobi wants after all.

Jacobi doesn’t really pay attention to how long it takes for him and Kepler to leave the building- he started to zone out after he found out his ring size and threw away his now empty coffee cup. Nothing in particular crosses his mind at first, various thoughts about his surroundings- thoughts on his interests, even the occasional idea on how to blow this specific building to kingdom come. It’s all for maybe about thirty seconds before he realizes that Kepler had dragged him into another scheme- pulled him in blind. It’s almost demeaning- how Kepler can pull him in blind- how he has Jacobi’s blind faith in almost every situation. It’s an uncomfortable feeling in his ribcage- this disgustingly sweet affection he shouldn’t feel coupled with the obedience of a soldier or- special operatives agent, in this unique, bitter case.

He can’t help but be mad at how Kepler has this sway on him. He could’ve walked out the moment he said husband- he didn’t have to stay here. What would Kepler do- risk the mission? In what timeline? Sure there’d be hell to pay later but, this act of rebellion could actually mean something if he chose to act on it. But instead, he’s staring at a painting behind the sales associate rubbing his thumb against Kepler’s knuckles as she boxes up the rings and bags them- with tissue paper and all. Jacobi isn’t introspective in these in between moments- he can’t help wondering why this is his cover now- of all things, he’s Kepler’s husband.

There’s an idea in Jacobi’s mind of what it means but- no. No. That, can’t be the case. Not with the relationship Kepler tries so hard to maintain. He’d never allow some affection to build past a friendly level- casual professionals.

He doesn’t need to be tugged along when the transaction is complete, he gives a tired grin and waves to the the other associate, leaves the store with Kepler, still holding his hand even as they cross the threshold. It’s habit- sort of a comforting presence that they both know isn’t necessary at this point. They played their parts well enough, why does it take them reaching Kepler’s cadillac to part?

Jacobi climbs in the passenger side and closes the door after him, checks his phone on some sort of reflex to see if Maxwell had texted him and tucks it away when there’s nothing new. Kepler slides into the drivers side, slamming the door as he sits and starting the engine.

“Colonel-” Jacobi starts, turning to face the man, “-what the hell was that?” Kepler arches a brow and his demeanor shifts to something colder almost immediately as those fateful words cross Jacobi’s lips. Jacobi switches his tact- “Sir, why did you say I’m your husband?” Kepler goes back to a more neutral place.

“It’s part of the mission, Mr. Jacobi,” He drawls, his tone inadvertently as if he’s spelling this out for a child.

“And you couldn’t have told me-?” Jacobi practically hisses and Kepler huffs a short laugh, shaking his head as he sits the bag on the center console.

“I said to follow my lead,” He lowers his sunglasses onto his face and his voice is smiling, “-and you did,” He hums it and backs out of the parking space. “I think that was the best acting I’ve ever gotten out of you. Good boy,” The corner of his lips quirk up and Jacobi’s chest tightens at the ‘compliment’.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pre-mission rituals are weird- and missions themselves are weirder. These things- happen sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im gonna be real my alana game is mad weak but yknow im in this we in this i hope you enjoy

Jacobi and Maxwell are sat side by side, talking and joking together, trying to feel normal in some aspect. Sitting in a little diner, next to each other in the only booth near the back of this almost restaurant. Nothing’s off the table- but Maxwell’s main interest is- fairly obvious. The ring on Jacobi’s finger isn’t flashy but it’s keeping her attention longer than either of them would like. Jacobi pretends not to notice while Maxwell is buzzing with questions about it.

 

“So- I need you to explain that ring- like we can’t not address it.” She almost monotones the sentence, glancing at his finger then to his face, blinking slowly at him as if somehow that, would clear things up.

 

“I- look. I don’t know either.” Jacobi’s words are blunt but not harsh. “I think it’s part of the mission-?” He shrugs and runs his thumb over the metal- still so shiny and new.

 

“What- that- okay. That’s weird but, okay.” Maxwell sighs and takes a sip from her coffee. “Is it for your- alibi?” She probes. Jacobi shrugs.

 

“Probably,”

 

“Do you even know, your alibi,” and Jacobi’s silent. He starts to protest and Maxwell snickers, smiles and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Jacobi huffs and sips his water- rolls his eyes and plays his part in this bit.

 

“As far as I know, we’re just married- and I got mugged, that’s it,” He doesn’t mean to draw out the word  _ married _  or sound a little dreamy when he says it either, but either way, Maxwell playfully jabs her elbow into his ribs and he returns the favor.

 

“Oh yuck-” she starts and pipes down as their commanding officer saunters into her line of sight, “-good luck,” she lowers her voice to say it and Jacobi sighs a little too heavily. He hums into his drink as Kepler approaches with their meals.

 

“I’m gonna need it,” He hums, watching as Kepler dishes out their food.

 

Of course, Kepler has the grace of a swan when he does this- probably has some story as to why he can carry a few plate like it’s nothing to boot. It’s not overwhelming but just the tiniest bit irksome- he’s perfect to a fault and it’s annoying that each attractive trait has the smallest ounce of something attractive attached.

 

Maxwell gets her vegan fettuccine and garlic bread, Jacobi gets his burger, fries, and chicken tenders (much to Kepler’s protest), and Kepler gets something that seems like a more expensive version of shrimp scampi. How he managed to get it is a well kept secret between the chef, Kepler, and God himself.

 

They dig in- to varying degrees. Eat and make small talk, wait until the scene is more emptied. Jacobi’s halfway through his burger, lifting it to his mouth when Kepler grabs his wrist to stop him.

 

“Kepler-?” Jacobi asks. He’s wary- doesn’t look nervous, just concerned- either if something’s wrong or if he- somehow did something wrong.

 

“You’re still wearing it?” Kepler’s staring with an amused look in his eye and Jacobi snatches his hand away. For a moment something flickers in Kepler’s stomach- some stray part of his mind latches onto the image of Jacobi wearing this ring- holds it dear and repeats a soft ‘mine’ over and over. He lingers almost a second too long on Jacobi’s hand, his lips try to smile but he smooths that feeling down. Keeps it from interfering more than it already has.

 

“Shut up,” Jacobi huffs and Kepler starts to laugh. Between forkfuls of pasta, Maxwell looks between their hands, eyes wide seeing that Jacobi really is the only one wearing the ring. She stifles a gasp and keeps eating.

 

“No- it’s  _ adorable, _ ” Kepler chuckles. He makes it sound like he’s talking with a child when he says it like that- like Jacobi’s just some kid for him to tease. “Makes me feel  _ special, _  Jacobi,” He prods. Jacobi doesn’t react- not too visibly at least. His knuckles go a vague shade or two paler and his jaw sets, but he makes an effort not to speak- there’s a fire lapping up his throat and, he wants to let it go- take it in stride. But he’s stubborn- he doesn’t want to give Kepler this win. And Kepler smiles, he lets go of his hand- a gentle release- and goes back to eating. Jacobi’s cheeks are a little red admittedly- but it’s some sort of victory for him- or he’s playing into Kepler’s hands for a bigger picture thing.

 

He’s probably playing into his hands, like the mule-headed man he is, he doesn’t care enough to do anything about it.

 

It feels like a few hours before someone talks again- in reality it’s just a matter of minutes- and Kepler breaks the silence, as per usual.

 

“I know I should’ve lead with- why we’re here,” He pauses to set his fork down, folding his hands, and Jacobi pipes up.

 

“I was starting to think it was going in a mafia direction- where you send me and Maxwell out to kill your life long enemy so they don’t see it coming,” He hums in an all too casual tone.

 

“Yeah- or this was some sort of last meal scenario,” Maxwell follows along. Kepler just barely rolls his eyes- it’s a minute gesture before returning back to his center. He glances between Jacobi and Maxwell and straightens his back.

 

“Wrong- both of you.” He hums, lips stretched in an almost too tight smile, the kind that someone would see in a professional meeting a vicious merger. His voice is low when he speaks- just to be sure no one else hears this conversation. “That classified and time sensitive mission Mr. Cutter gave us- we’re leaving tomorrow to execute it. Be ready we leave at seven am, to the second, and we’ll group up at Mr. Jacobi’s apartment complex. Understood?” He asks, leaning in just a touch.

 

“Oh- yeah” Maxwell hums, with that half interested voice of hers. Pauses for a beat and realizes what Kepler wants to hear. “Yes sir,” Is all she says after that, casting a glance to Jacobi, thinking he’d be ready to agree in a heartbeat.

 

“Is that- Is that why we’re  _ married _  now?” Jacobi’s voice is low and close to a hiss, he tries to keep calm, but his anger betrays him. It starts to leak into his voice and he’s a bit antsy.

 

“Calm down, Jacobi. It’s not like we signed any documents.” He shrugs it off as if it were something that can just be- shrugged off. “We aren’t even married- it’s all fake.” Kepler leans back and almost relaxes.

 

“I mean- yeah it’s fake, but, what the hell-? Why couldn’t you tell me-”

 

“I am telling you, Jacobi.” He’s getting more curt- getting close to the voice telling Jacobi to back down and leave this alone.

 

“You know what the hell I meant,” Jacobi retorts- something a little rough around the edges.

 

“Mr. Jacobi,” Kepler starts, raising his voice just a few decibels.

 

“You know that's not what I meant, sir.” Jacobi huffs and stuffs his anger back down inside of his chest, keeps it from biting on his tongue and glares down at his chicken strips.

 

“I’m telling you right now,” Kepler starts- each word- each sound his voice makes is measured, “Mr. Jacobi, that, the event we are to attend, has us listed, as married. It wasn’t my decision.” He doesn’t smile- or sound like he’s smiling. Almost lets a whiff of embarrassment shine through in his voice. Jacobi is almost livid- the one thing keeping him from full fledged anger is the pathetic feeling just behind his ribcage, between his heart and his lungs. Someone saw how he looked at Kepler once, and clocked how he felt- just like that. Like it was nothing- like he, was nothing. Someone saw, and now he has to pay the price.

 

Of course. That’s just how Goddard futuristics is. It’s just how they operate. Exploit any sign of emotion and beat some mask of normality into each agent. It comes with the job but it’s- hell.

 

“Well, this is, very compelling,” Maxwell cuts in and Jacobi straightens up, bounces back almost seamlessly, “but, I would love to know my role in this,” She doesn’t mean to sound rude- and she isn’t. She’s just getting this back on track. Kepler shakes off the interruption and doesn’t address her tone.

 

“You, Ms. Maxwell, are to infiltrate the team of scientists presenting this- new and improved A.I. processor and do everything within your power to keep this presentation from getting wings.” Maxwell nods along and her mind is spinning with scenarios and possibilities. “You don’t have to hurt the thing- just keep them from success. Understood?” It’s only a question out of formality.

 

“Yes, sir,” Maxwell nods, taking a bite of her bread. “Understood.” She says after swallowing.

 

“Good-” Kepler smiles but Maxwell isn’t paying attention. Such tactics don’t really work on her.

 

“And me?” Jacobi’s voice is lower- a little raw.

 

“Right,” Kepler starts, leaning back and looking out the window beside him, “You and I, Mr. Jacobi, are to pose as a representative from the Air Force and his husband. We, are Maxwell’s cover fire in this. Is that understood?” He casts a sideways glance to Jacobi who takes a deep breath and swallows.

 

“Yes sir.”

 

“When we reach our first checkpoint, we’ll go through our alibi.”

 

“Understood, sir,” Jacobi’s voice is much more rigid than he intends, but Kepler doesn’t mind. He likes it, even.

 

“Good boy,” Kepler hums and Maxwell rolls her eyes. She thinks to say something but passes on it, opts on finishing her food. Kepler does too- makes small talk with Maxwell and Jacobi interjects every so often. They reset their dynamic and act normal again.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a gripping game of questions only and some, introspection that really is, something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i worked so hard on this game of questions only dont even try me on this one

The mandatory bonding car ride that Kepler subjected Jacobi and Maxwell to on each and every mission is something the two of them will never be used to. It’s almost routine by now. Maxwell claims the backseat to put a buffer between her and Kepler, Kepler pretends to be shocked that Jacobi climbs in the passenger side without more complaint than an ‘et tu, Maxwell?’ a hand over his heart and overly hurt tone to drive the point home. Kepler asks if they brought snacks, they almost always, without fail, say no. He pulls over and they grab candy and food that’ll last all of twelve hours- hopefully- and restart their embark to another state.

 

The conversation isn’t routine- new things get thrown in all the time. But it’s vaguely formulaic. Kepler starts an outlandish story, Jacobi adds in his usual charms and flairs, Maxwell bites her tongue on pointing out an inconsistency here and there. He finishes with an almost didactic one liner, and Maxwell and Jacobi are vaguely impressed. Maybe more than vaguely, but they wouldn’t let it show. And on the rare occasion, Kepler will start that bubbling up laugh of his, and say he recited the plot to some classic piece of literature or even a shakespearean play- which of course, he just has memorized- and say he expected Jacobi to blindly believe him, but wonders where Maxwell’s critical thinking skills went. He’ll ask himself if his story telling is actually that good and be so smug and full of himself that Maxwell’ll just roll her eyes and go back to doing whatever on her phone and Jacobi will have some reaction next to anger but not quite for Kepler lying to him. Even when their jobs- as far away from each other as they are- tend to center around, being professional liars.

 

When they reach their first motel on this trip, Maxwell sits herself at the table beside the window, and orders their dinner- it’s a tedious task, but one she has memorized by now. Jacobi’s put in charge of putting their things away for the night and Kepler- hygienic man that he is, takes a shower. Takes his time, and comes back out in a towel to Jacobi sitting on a bed, doing some over the top impersonation of him. He waits for a moment before deciding to speak. Waits for Jacobi to finish whatever he was saying.

 

“I do not sound like that, Jacobi,” Kepler cuts in with a half smile, giving Jacobi a discreet and knowing wink. Maxwell can’t contain her laughter at this. She’s beyond delighted and Jacobi flushes red, turns to face Kepler and his embarrassment grows almost exponentially. His words are suddenly stopped up in his throat- he can’t speak. Can barely think of anything besides how Kepler looks and how he’s not doing anything about it- just covered with a towel- it’s too staggering. “You’re going to need to work on your impressions, Mr. Jacobi,” Kepler’s sly when he says it- he’s always a few steps ahead and it’s god damn frustrating.

 

“Oh my god-” Jacobi chokes out and tears his gaze away, “-what the fuck, sir,” He manages to collect himself enough to manage that much.

 

“What do you mean Jacobi?” Kepler stays coy, turns his back, and reaches around in his bag for a change of clothes. “I haven’t done, anything, wrong.” He hums with a smile and pulls out a pair of sweatpants.

 

“I don’t know- sneaking up on me and scaring me half to death?” Jacobi can’t help but look at Kepler while he steps into this pair of sweatpants- it’s the same kind of look when someone anticipates a disaster of some magnitude- a morbid curiosity. He isn’t sure what exactly he’ll see- he has some thoughts but they’re not going to take him anywhere productive or, conducive, and that, is a problem.

 

“But,” Kepler’s stretching out his words now, like they’re whole works of literary magnitude, “you didn’t die,” He doesn’t need to look at Jacobi for him to understand the look he would be giving- a coy half smile that feigns complete innocence- he’s well versed. They both are. 

 

They eat their dinner and share stories- small talk mostly, whatever talk Kepler deemed as idle chatting as to work within the guidelines of the almighty SI-5 Handbook. They know that this is the one night of peace they’ll have until the end of this mission (a handful of days seem to stretch and warp to look like months- quite possibly years) so- they want to make it count. Make the shared dinner something relaxed and maybe even semi-meaningful even as Kepler protests in those subtle ways. 

 

When all is said and done, it’s time to decide who sleeps where. No one’s quite keen on the floor and there’s no couch- so a bed will have to be cohabitated. To his detriment- Jacobi is just a few seconds late to the ‘nose goes’ draw, so he doesn’t get to stake his claim on a bed. Instead, he has to pick his poison. Standing in the bathroom brushing his teeth, he mulls it over. He could- sleep next to Maxwell, chronic starfish sleeper and blanket fiend, or Kepler, a human furnace and inhuman morning dove. The choice should be easy- he normally bunks with Maxwell. They’re close enough that it’s barely a question. However, as of late, it’s more apparent Maxwell could easily push him out of the bed. But his other option, could end up putting Jacobi into a gay panic of sorts but- when didn’t he live in the throws of one such panic? 

 

Sophie’s choice honest to god, has nothing on this decision- God has really and truly abandoned Daniel Jacobi. Sure she’s probably been gone since some fateful time in eighth grade but this- this just confirms it. If he sides with Maxwell, he gets Kepler asking why he turned him down, and alone at that, if he sides with Kepler, he has to deal with Maxwell asking if they engage in extracurricular activities outside of work related activities. At least Alana wouldn’t be entirely in his presence for the whole mission. Plus- siding with Kepler would score him some brownie points and- he could say it’s mission prep or something else straight from an SI-5 video on how not to bond with your commanding officer. 

 

So when he spits out his toothpaste and rinses his toothbrush, he knows what he’s going to do. The main room is dark already- the faint glow of streetlights, passing cars, and the fading screen of Maxwell and Kepler’s phones the only real source of light in the room. He climbs into Kepler’s bed and nestles himself under the blankets. Sure his heart is racing- it’s not ideal, but, the bathtub isn’t long enough for him to curl up and not have a knot in his back the size of his fist and too narrow for him to legitimately sleep; catching naps on the last leg of the drive would just be impossible at any given time- what with the stories and games and how he just needs to get a word in about anything and everything. 

 

Jacobi’s halfway to goading himself into sleeping when Kepler’s arm snakes around his waist. His heart flutters, and Kepler’s head nestles against his. The contact isn’t much- it’s nothing too far fetched from what they’ve been through, but it feels so utterly intimate. It’s vulnerable. The gesture is so soft and, affectionate, one might dare to say. His back gets pressed flush to Kepler’s chest in one movement- Kepler squeezes his chest and his chin rests in Jacobi’s hair. He’s warm- Kepler radiates heat like he was built for it. The initial shock of it- feeling Kepler hold him- wears off in an amount of time Jacobi can’t really put a quantitative label on. He’s relaxed- and so is Kepler.

 

It’s peaceful.

 

For all of a few moments, Jacobi’s mind doesn’t have anything on it except for how sweetly he’d sleep. Then he passes over to the irony of it all- how the most dangerous thing in this room is curled around him, sleeping so soundly, holding him like he’s protecting him. Like Kepler is his personal guard dog and it isn’t the other way around. Like he’s the one who’d bark and snarl if someone threatened Jacobi- like he couldn’t do it himself. It doesn’t make the gesture feel any less comforting. 

 

Jacobi turns his head into the pillow, nuzzles in and gets himself comfortable in this shared space. Before he closes his eyes, he casts a glance to the arm bent around Kepler’s pillow, and his eyes follow the curves and contours of his muscles. He gets to his hand and- his heart skips a beat. The passing headlights of some car illuminates it for a second- shines the vaguest light and makes the ring Kepler’s got on glint in the night. Jacobi turns to look at the wall, focus on his breathing and get to sleep- not think about the matching ring on his finger and dream- just sleep and dream and forget about what he saw or just- shove it out of his mind.

 

The next morning starts as it usually does- Kepler rips the blinds apart- already showered and dressed with clothes set out for both Maxwell and Jacobi, the little coffee pot already in the room, full of instant, and hot and ready for use. 

 

Jacobi knows the routine well enough not to question the song and dance. He waits a few moments with his eyes open in bed and forces himself up. Maxwell groans as the light hits her face and she rolls over- pulls the covers up and sandwiches her head between two halves of the same pillow. A mistake- she knows this. But the few extra moments of peace she gets is well worth it. The blankets are ripped from her by only one of Kepler's hands, the other holds a cup of water precariously between his thumb and forefinger.

 

“I said,” He starts with the voice that smiles and a straight face, his too expensive sunglasses on top of his hair, “wake. Up. Ms. Maxwell.” His staccato isn’t heavy- it’s not a threat it’s a strong armed suggestion, and Maxwell sighs. She sits on the edge of the bed and rubs her eyes before putting her glasses on. “Thank you,” Kepler grins and tosses the blanket down and hands her the cup of water. “We’re leaving in an hour, to the second,” says Kepler, “is that clear?” He asks barely a beat after he last speaks. There comes a disjointed ‘Yes sir’ from his subordinates. 

 

To the second is easy to adapt to. Kepler has schedules memorized and knows exactly how long any given task takes to complete. It’s easy for him- timing it all out and he’s decently satisfied when Maxwell and Jacobi are awake and ready to go minutes before he is- they’re actually learning. He just needs to resituate the trunk- move the Gun Bag and the two Very Important Clothes Bags to that the Personal Belongings Bags will fit comfortably and be easier to grab later on.

 

Kepler rejoins them mere moments later as Jacobi locks up the motel room and Maxwell chokes down the instant coffee- anything’s good enough at seven in the morning as long as it packs a punch and does it fast. 

 

“Are we ready?” Kepler asks in a smooth voice.

 

“Yes sir,” Jacobi says. Maxwell gives a thumbs up and Kepler turns on his heel, heading back toward his cadillac. Jacobi and Maxwell follow along and climb into their usual spots, Kepler lingers outside a moment longer, checking his phone for something and swearing under his breath before sliding into the drivers side, slamming the door and starting the ignition. Jacobi glances sideways at Kepler’s hands and his breath catches in this throat for a moment when he sees the same sparkling metal on his finger that he did last night. It is real- he didn’t imagine it.

 

The trip goes as expected- another outlandish story with such specific details that it couldn’t be fake- but this time it ends with a little audience participation. Something in Kepler is feeling competitive. He wants a fight but he’s not willing to find someone to brawl. He’d rather go toe to toe with his captive audience. 

 

“Would either of you,” his drawl is a little thick here- he sounds almost pensive, “care to play a game?” He looks into the rearview- catches Maxwell’s eye. “Alana? Daniel?” His eyes flicker between the two. Maxwell doesn’t answer immediately. 

 

“What game are you interested in-?” Jacobi clears his voice.

 

“Oh, just a game of questions only, is that fine with you?” Kepler grins like the devil’s inside him and Jacobi feels that tightness in his chest again.

 

“Has the game started?” Maxwell chimes in- that steely determination edging into her voice. 

 

“I don’t know, Maxwell, has it?” Kepler’s grin is that of the cheshire cat and- it’s a little infuriating for a multitude of reasons- none of which end in a good place.

 

“Are you gonna answer the question?” Jacobi glares at Kepler.

 

“Is that in accordance with the game?” Kepler purrs.

 

“Why can’t you lace two phrases together?” Maxwell hums, leaning forward in her seat just barely.

 

“Whatever do you mean, Maxwell?” Kepler glances up at the rearview at her. 

 

“Why can’t you grasp the concept of, yes and? Is it too complex for you?” Maxwell stares into the reflection of his eyes, 

 

“Are you insinuating something about my intelligence, Maxwell?”

 

“Does it matter-?” Jacobi chimes in- to no avail, at least.

 

“It matters- can you read an insinuation in my questions colonel?” Maxwell says it with a venom she normally reserves for something that’s more life or death. Nothing serious will come from this and Jacobi knows it- everyone in the car knows it- but that doesn’t stop Kepler’s pride from being wounded. He bares his teeth for a moment and goes back to his neutral expression.

 

“What is the cause for this hostility, Agent Maxwell?” Kepler asks in his stiff measured voice.

 

“What hostility do you mean, Colonel?” Maxwell retorts, not breaking eye contact with the mirror.

 

“Are you playing coy with me?” Kepler’s voice lowers just a touch- turns into something that carries the threat of a growl.

 

“Hey can we stop for breakfast?” Jacobi tries to divert the subject.

 

“That depends colonel, does coy mean anything to you?” Maxwell’s voice doesn’t have the same stiffness- it’s more subversive or- it comes more naturally to her than it does Kepler.

 

“Colonel, why would I ever play games with you?” Maxwell puts on the coy mask and Kepler grips the steering wheel a little too tightly. Jacobi happens to catch a glimpse of this and wonders briefly if tungsten can be bent by the depths of a man's anger and sheer determination alone. He makes a note to look it up later and checks out of the conversation. He looks out the window at the scenery passing them by- the suburban almost rural setting is peaceful- it’s a tableau of modern America- or whatever. The people passing by- the cars, buses, taxi cabs, pedestrians. They all have their own lives and their own problems. It’s a little overwhelming to think about. How life goes on outside of his little sphere, his bubble of what he knows and what he does. It’s weird- yes; a little unnerving and all around existential, but, otherwise- insignificant to his life. At least the people outside the car- they’re insignificant. Dispensable. Jacobi’s whole world revolves around those in the confines of this vehicle. A blessing and a curse.

 

Introspective thoughts be damned- he’s spent ten minutes quiet and pondering life- what the fuck? That- that’s not him. Not really- or, not anymore. That’s more reminiscent of the guy he was- the guy he is, doesn’t do that. The guy he is gets distracted by the game of questions only that’s been going on too long- and he gets pulled in by Kepler. He swears that man has magnets in his larynx and everyone else is just made of cobalt. It’s unfair but- so is everything else.

 

“Jacobi- are you still playing with us?” Kepler’s tight voice tries to be neutral, Maxwell’s snide grin tells the story he missed. His face is a mask at the moment- his smile is simply painted on and his eyes just barely betray his true emotion.

 

“Do I have a choice, sir?” Jacobi’s voice is a hum and he looks at Kepler with an almost tired glance. Kepler huffs a short laugh.

 

“Am I keeping you from something?” Kepler prods.

 

“What would I have to do on the road?” Jacobi slumps his shoulders forward and props his head on the heel of his palm. 

 

“Are you bored, Mr. Jacobi?” Kepler asks in that almost dangerous way.

 

“What are you thinking sir?” Jacobi asks, and Kepler smiles more dangerously.

 

“Are you bored, Colonel?” Maxwell asks.

 

“Would you two, be opposed, to some- ...roadside fun?” Kepler’s words linger and lilt, draw each other out of his mouth, like one’s to hang on each word he says in a feverish anticipation of the next.

 

“Isn’t that against the handbook, sir?” Maxwell asks with that edge from before- like she’s got something on Kepler.

 

Instead of asking, Warren Kepler keeps his eyes on the road and as they reach a stretch of desert, he steps on the gas and the cadillac picks up speed in a handful of seconds. Jacobi and Maxwell are pushed back into their seats, and the car only gets faster.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so they're at the event- more or less- and they it's just- guys bein dudes! dudes bein guys!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> full disclosure this is the prelude to some fuckin

Maxwell had left their company about- an hour or so ago. She walked to where she needed to be from a few blocks away- collecting her story and getting herself together, ready to play the part of the linguistics intern who’s just happy to be here. Jacobi and Kepler, are now left to unpack in their unfortunately furnished suite.

 

They know they’re here for- at least three days. And it’s torturous for Jacobi to see only one queen size bed in their room. Fuck Goddard Futuristics and their attraction to soft spots. Fuck how they have to poke and prod at already forming bruises. Fuck them. It’s weird- why do they have to do this- why are they so fucking evil. Jacobi can’t throw stones and he knows it- he’s just as horrible as they are. But it’s different when he’s getting hurt. It’s much different when his head is on the chopping block- when it’s about to roll.

 

Kepler had put all their clothes away- didn’t distinguish between what belonged to who, vaguely blended their clothes together. Whether it’s more accurate to say it’s to keep their cover- cover their bases so to speak, or, if it was something within Kepler imitating a need for closeness- be it simulated or organic. It can’t be a real need can it? Warren Kepler- that man died when he became black ops, now, he’s just a job- Marcus Cutter’s personal cloak and dagger. He shouldn’t crave these things- it’s too mundane for him. And yet- he has the compulsion to linger over Jacobi’s belongings like he’s a lovesick schoolboy and not his commanding officer. He’s a goddamn professional- this is below his pay grade and he knows it.

 

Jacobi’s in the living room- on the phone with room service ordering something to eat and drinks- it’s expensive but, if they’re faux Air Force representatives then- they should act like it. Get expensive food and drinks and, be bougie while they can be. The opportunity is once in a life time after all. These things can’t be wasted. What kind of man would Daniel Jacobi be if he didn’t jump at the chance of being taken care of by a rich man? At least for a night.

 

Kepler rejoins him after Jacobi hangs up the phone; they’ve only been here for a matter of a few hours and already, Jacobi feels comfortable. Not comfortable enough to walk around like he’s at home, mind you- dear god no. It would be impossible to do that with his colonel nearby. But comfortable enough to throw his weight around a bit more than he would normally.

 

“Hope you like surf an’ turf, it’s what I ordered,” Jacobi plops down onto the couch like a stone into a lake. Kepler half shrugs and paces the living area of this suite- his mind isn’t darting from topic to topic- he’s more focused on organizing his words and his game plan for the coming moments. “Surf an’ turf, and your favorite, Warren-” He grins at the first name- it’s a show of intimacy they often don’t give each other. Kepler can’t quite place if this is a power play or if he’s just laying it on a little too thick simply because he can and- with walls a little less than insulated and neighbors aplenty, he can get away with it.

 

“Quite alright with me,” Kepler hums. He’s still deep in thought, looking at random items amongst the room as a focus. He stops short in front of Jacobi. Looking down at Jacobi while he busies himself with texting Maxwell- he can’t help but admire something about how he looks. Maybe it’s how casual he is- how he seems calm and collected- maybe it's the rose gold that stands out against his skin with that dark grey gunmetal. 

 

There’s that voice again. Mine. 

 

“Mr. Jacobi,” Kepler starts, sitting himself in an armchair, holding a cup of ice water like it’s a tumbler of whiskey, “have I, told you the alibi I made for the two of us?” He takes a sip and Jacobi looks at him.

 

“I was wondering when you’d get to that, sir,” Jacobi hums, sliding his phone away. He gives Kepler his whole attention and there’s a swell of something in his chest- is it pride? That the most stubborn man he can think of, follows his every word without a challenge? “No, you haven’t told me.”

 

“Well,” Kepler starts, “you already know the premise- we’re married on this mission.” He sets his cup down and leans forward, his elbows on his thighs. Jacobi makes a noise in agreement. “We’re married and, we got married August 24th-” Jacobi’s spine stiffens and his eyes blow out for a moment. 

 

“No- no we didn’t.” Jacobi’s defensive and there’s a hint of anger in his eyes and more than enough agitation in his voice for Kepler to sit back.

 

“Now, Mr. Jacobi-” Kepler starts, palms up like he’s going to surrender, his words drag on and it’s almost painful, “-it’s an important, easy to remember date for both of us, you know that.” He’s stern,- looking Jacobi in the eye and using the voice that says not to argue and that Kepler knows best here. Something that’s walks the line of a threat and a suggestion, talking Jacobi into submission one argument at a time. “As I was saying,” Kepler clears his throat, going back to a neutral place, “It was a small service, we honeymooned in Vancouver-”

 

“Sir,” Jacobi huffs. He doesn’t want to ask what he knows he doesn’t want the answer to. “Did I take your last name?” The concept of this- makes Jacobi’s skin almost crawl. It’s not repulsive- god, no, it’s just something he doesn’t want to admit that he wouldn’t mind. It’s not- appropriate. He knows if he were to let that shine, he’d have to move across the country- hell, maybe even out of the country. Kepler’s grin is almost too much to handle- he’s proud of himself- putting his chest up a bit almost like a tropical bird) and happy that Jacobi asked- that he remembered the things Kepler saw as little details in his big picture.

 

“I was wondering if you caught on-” Kepler’s grin is too much. “Do you want it-?” He’s too pleased asking this. Jacobi gets defensive and visibly guarded, it’s not every day your boss asks if you want to take his last name. “I mean- on this mission, my last name won’t even be Kepler.” He pauses and his grin is wicked for a second, then he’s back to normal. “I have to conceal my identity,” he pauses, “I was thinking- Harlan Luckett.” He grins and, Jacobi rolls his eyes.

 

“You live for drama, don’t you?” Jacobi takes a sip of his whiskey and stabs at a piece of lobster with his fork. “I swear I expected you to say Julius Caesar-” Jacobi says, “-maybe even Claudius Hamlet- just for the effect it’d have.” Kepler laughs to himself and takes a sip of his whiskey. “Maybe even Don Draper.”

 

“I’d be a liar if I said the thought didn’t cross my mind. But people would remember that more,” Kepler hums with a smile. “Would you like to be my Wendy?” The question has more allure to it then he’d like to admit. He can’t place why that sounds like an interesting proposition.

 

“Depends- are you gonna try and kill me with an axe?” Jacobi asks in a flat voice. “Or- even a croquet mallet?”

 

“Why on earth would I want to kill my darling husband?” His words are deliberate and, they’re emphasized to make Jacobi into Kepler’s prey yet again. Darling husband- that had to be tailored to get Jacobi’s guard down.

 

“Well if there’s no attempted murder then it’s a deal breaker,” Jacobi teases, “I like my men with added danger. Felons, convicts-”

 

“Paramilitary?” 

 

“Paramilitary, yeah,” Jacobi echoes and keeps his eyes down- not a form of submission, he simply does not want to see the smirking pride on Kepler’s face. It’s something a little too smug and Jacobi doesn’t want to acknowledge he put another card in his deck.

 

“Dangerous paramilitary men-” Kepler hums, it’s in approval but it’s almost onvious that this is stroking his ego, “-am I your type, Mr. Jacobi?” It’s bait. Jacobi knows it’s bait.

 

“I did marry you, didn’t I?” Jacobi monotones. Kepler’s expression falters almost imperceptibly.

 

“You did,” Kepler sighs. There’s not defeat in his voice- it’s just something to indicate he’s thinking on it.

 

“So you’re my type.” Jacobi’s conscious of the feeling of nailing his coffin together. He knows that this is a dangerous thing to say and he, can’t quite take it back. But Kepler perks up. It’s either genuine or part of his character this time around. It’s a leap of faith but- what isn’t these days?

 

“Good,” Kepler hums. He says it like it’s a full speech on it’s own. The dip in conversation that follows isn’t too terribly uncomfortable- they’re used to this. They eat and drink and, Jacobi breaks the silence. 

 

“So- we honeymooned in Vancouver?” He asks around a bite of steak. The feeling in Kepler’s chest cranks up- something close to that voice muttering mine, but this time, it’s just vaguely different. It’s still possessive but it feels like a curled smirk, it puts the idea that, Jacobi’s still thinking about him and their faux marriage together. That this is being taken seriously.

 

“Vancouver,” Kepler repeats as a confirmation.

 

“I like Toronto better,” Jacobi says it before he takes a sip of his whiskey- his second glass goes down a little smoother than the first. “Niagara Falls, Tim Hortons- all that good stuff,” 

 

“That’s flexible,” Kepler says after swallowing a bite of lobster. “Anything else you have concerns about, Daniel?” It’s not intentional- at least for Kepler- for that tone to slip out- the one tone that makes Jacobi buckle and tuck his chin down, stare at his plate and, take a deep breath. The one that makes him feel small yet- like he’s the focus of Kepler’s universe. That isn’t fair in any sense of the word. He knows it’s not true- it’s not really going to last.

 

“No, sir,” Jacobi hums.

 

“Why do you insist on still calling me sir, Daniel?” He does it again, and Jacobi hates it. He doesn’t want to feel so weak and vulnerable at the use of his own god damn name. He shouldn’t have this power over him- Kepler shouldn’t be this influential and yet, here he is. In all his intoxicating glory.

 

“Would you rather me call you dear? Honey? Sweetie-pie?” Jacobi teases, downing the rest of his drink. His face is warm- not from Kepler, thank god. The booze is warming him up from the inside out, and it’s a nice almost distraction. It’s giving him the courage to be menacing and not care about any repercussions.

 

“Try again, darling,” Kepler smiles, standing up and motioning for Jacobi to follow him. He’s set the glass of whiskey down and has the whole bottle in hand. Kepler walks to the balcony and Jacobi watches him get there. Waits a moment and follows him.

 

The city beneath them is beautiful- lights sparkle and glitter, twinkle and dance in the distance, it’s nice to see but- it’s also a shame. The stars in the sky are muzzled by the light pollution and- it’s almost tragic. At least there’s still something to see. Orion shines bright as normal. Ursa major exists and- the north star- it’d better still be visible or all of mankind would lose some semblance of sanity in unison. It’s nice. Jacobi almost feels bad he didn’t notice the sun went down. They’ve been on the road all day and even moved a timezone so- it makes sense at least. But he still feels some twinge of guilt for not noticing- not seeing the fiery oranges and reds and yellows of the sunset. That would’ve been nice to see. 

 

The moonlight washed over the two of them feels like a new area. Like their hotel suite is a different realm and that this- outside of that room is almost comparable to the first year anniversary they spent together. There’s no duffel bag full of fireworks but it’s still something. A half drunk night looking up at the moon in something next to a desert, with someone who just trips him up at every turn- and that can go either way. The little things Jacobi doesn’t know he does that makes Kepler so territorial- the little space he carved out with dynamite in what remains of his heart. Kepler’s entire being- every inch of him, even down to the way he looks at someone. It’s enough to make Jacobi choke on his own spit and forget how to breathe.

 

It’s quiet as they stand here together and watch the lights in the streets flicker around and glance up at the indigo sky and feel the vastness of the universe. How every flickering light below them is a person going about their life- it’s the same thoughts Jacobi had on the drive here- he’s heard a word about this before- sonder. Other people are leading their lives that are just as deeply complex and emotional as his, and Kepler’s and Maxwell’s. And amongst those stars- aliens have their own deeply complex lives and customs and- it hurts his head to think about. It’s a little too much, but it’s a little relaxing- letting his mind wander. It’s an opportunity cost.

 

The two of them pass the bottle of whiskey back and forth and back again, taking drinks and swigs and emptying it slowly but surely. If Kepler were a few sips more sober, he might’ve gotten a bottle of water, but, that window is long since passed. It’s no big deal- they’re both adults who can hold their liquor. It’s an unconscious choice they both made- for Kepler to let his fingers rest barely over Jacobi’s and for Jacobi to, lean into the act, as it were; to move his hand under Kepler’s. There’s subtle movements- a gentle run of the thumb across the knuckles or, simply curling fingers around one another. Neither back down- some mixture of being so starved for human contact for far too long, and, the pride neither of them wanted to or knew how to swallow, it only spurs them on.

 

It encourages Kepler to grab Jacobi’s hand in his- interlace their fingers and squeeze his hand. The ring- god that fucking ring- it makes his heart flutter. He wants to do so much- pull Jacobi close and show him how he feels or- do more to blur the lines between their rankings and their relationship that’s supposed to be professional. Jacobi squeezes Kepler’s hand, once, then twice. His heart flutters and feels so warm- it almost melts out of his chest. The gesture isn’t much but it’s something- if it’s just method acting or genuine doesn’t matter. It feels good enough to keep- he’ll take it. 

 

Neither one of them really dared to break the silence- it’s a mutual agreement of sorts, a comforter for them to hide under- one allowing them not to address the feelings neither of them will own up to. It’s not ideal- it doesn’t scream into the wind that there’s something here that can’t be taken away, no, instead it’s hesitant and quiet and something neither of these men thought they would ever embody. In this silence- when the bottle’s finally empty- Jacobi understands the term liquid courage. 

 

He can feel his legs sway just slightly with little to no breeze- he knows how suggestible every part of his body is in this moment- he knows why. He’s familiar with the feeling, it’s not news to either of them. It’s no surprise when Jacobi leans on Kepler- their interlocked fingers the start of this new connection- Jacobi leaning on Kepler’s arm, his head on his shoulder and Kepler’s cheek on the very top of Jacobi’s head. It’s enough for a few moments but each of them has this nagging idea- a suggestion that’s just too strong to be ignored. Kepler thinks for a moment, it’s not, coherent- he jumps from point a to point d to point b, to point m. It takes a moment more to weigh out pros and cons and- he’s sure that the pros outweigh the cons, he’s almost positive he could get away with this idea too- but there’s some nervousness he can’t outrun. It’s stupid- he shouldn’t have to swallow nerves- he’s not a child. But he does- and it’s his own torment. Some retribution for when he didn’t hesitate he’d suppose if he were more sober and introspective.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sex. it's unimportant u don't have to read it but its sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they're just fuckin dawg! two guys bein dudes!

It doesn’t take long for Jacobi to move first- he was always one for action while Kepler would hurdle over hypotheticals. It’s an admirable trait. Jacobi moves his head, rests a hand on Kepler’s throat and looks him in the eye. It’s simple but it freezes time around them for a moment. They both have the same thought- I could kiss you right now- but neither expression betrays that. Jacobi’s eyes the size of saucers and his parted lips, Kepler’s unreadable stoicism that rarely made an appearance but meant that his mind was working overtime to reason something or plan. Jacobi’s thumb brushes his jaw, runs over the bit of skin just under a couple times and he can’t help but look at Kepler’s lips- then his jaw, then his cheekbones. 

 

“Hey.” Jacobi says barely above a whisper. He blinks slowly and it keeps Kepler’s attention for almost too long. 

 

“Hi.” Kepler replies, his voice low and rough but, somewhat comforting. He leans down a bit and with his free hand holds Jacobi’s chin. He’s done it before- scores less gentle than he is now, but it’s none less intimate. 

 

He tilts Jacobi’s head up until there’s barely any space between the two of them and he closes the gap. Lets their lips press together in a faint brush that moves into something more intimate. Gently pressing together, leaning into each other and enjoying the contact and this- firey feeling in their throats. It’s not the burn of whiskey- it feels like the glow of a fire inside of them, like something rising up from the chest to the throat rolling over their tongues. They spend a few more moments kissing each other in short pecks and longer more drawn out moves. It’s relaxing to a fault- Jacobi’s legs seem to think it’s appropriate to just give out and Kepler has to brace himself on the handrail of the balcony. They wait- still so close to each other, Jacobi’s hand having found Kepler’s hair and Kepler’s holding Jacobi’s throat in quite possibly the gentlest chokehold he’s ever participated in. 

 

“Sir,” Jacobi mumbles- his eyes a little glazed over and his voice too soft sounding. Kepler feels a similar feeling from before- unconsciously puffs his chest just a bit and squeezes Jacobi’s throat. He shivers; Kepler scoffs and it almost sounds like a laugh. Jacobi’s face goes red- he knows what shame feels like and knows that this is a watered down version of it. He tries to keep himself together but Kepler squeezes again and, this time, Jacobi sighs.

 

“Is that so, Mr. Jacobi?” Kepler hums against Jacobi’s lips, his own curled up in that devilish, dark smile. He kisses Jacobi again and squeezes his throat with a firm hand and lets the pressure linger. Jacobi’s mouth opens a bit more- he gasps for air and his face shifts in color by just a couple shades. “Would you,” Kepler starts, he starts speaking in that way that makes every single syllable sound like a complete sentence, “like, to go back inside?” Jacobi nods.

 

Kepler leads him back in- he’s barely got legs to stand on himself, but it’s more than enough of a lead to get himself and Jacobi into the bedroom of their suite. Back into this world that made the premise of what their doing more blurred. Thankfully neither cared to question if this was acting or real or something in between. That would be something for their sober selves to figure out. Barely moments pass before Kepler pulls Jacobi in for a kiss again. Lets their lips clash together in a consciously less gentle manner- a kiss that’s hungrier and craves more than before, it’s almost needy but- that wouldn’t come from Kepler. It never would if Jacobi was receiving it from him. 

 

He’s not harsh when he does it, but nevertheless, Jacobi shoves Kepler back onto the bed. Breaking the kiss momentarily but making Kepler’s world spin. Kepler stares up at the ceiling for what feels like a century, but in what also feels like an instant- Jacobi’s crawling on top of him. His hands move automatically to find Jacobi’s thighs and hips- hands ghosting over his ass and up his back to his waist. Jacobi on his hands and knees is a sight Kepler still loves to see; from the first time he appreciated the sight to now- no matter what his vantage point. He’s not graceful when he sits just above Kepler’s hips but Kepler doesn’t mind, he smiles and it’s not devious- it’s almost human. Jacobi’s heart skips a beat and jumps at the same time- it’s too damn much to see Kepler like this- it’s not fair. It’s never fair. 

 

Jacobi leans down and presses his lips to Kepler’s again- he almost purrs with happiness at the contact. Kepler’s hands reach up into Jacobi’s hair and scratch ever so slightly at his scalp- he sighs at the contact, at the light feeling it brings to his stomach that bubbles up into his ribs. He chuckles a bit and goes back into the kiss. It’s messy- an improvisational mix of push and pull resulting in knocked teeth and bumped noses, stray laughs and little tugs of the hair here and there. It’s playful- light hearted and shielded from the outside world. Nothing would dare hurt them here, would it?

 

Amidst one of their many sessions connected at the lips- really using their tongues to communicate- Kepler pulls particularly hard on Jacobi’s hair. He reels back- nothing too dramatic but it’s something notable. He hisses through his teeth and swears, glaring down at Kepler- not too seriously, but calling him an ass when he goes back down to kiss him again. Kepler waits a few more moments- enjoys the game their playing here; Jacobi kisses Kepler a little too roughly and Kepler retaliates- Jacobi pretends like he was delicate with him and Kepler grins. But this time- the script changes. Instead of retaliation in the form of say- biting Jacobi’s lower lip, Kepler instead rolls his hips up on Jacobi’s. Jacobi gasps so breathlessly and his eyes flutter open. He can’t really place what’s making him so devious here- why he wants to tease Jacobi so much. But it’s fun nevertheless.

 

“Fuck you,” Jacobi mumbles against Kepler’s lips, Kepler chuckles. “Seriously- fuck you,” He hisses, pressing a kiss half on Kepler’s lips. “You’re too god damn-” he presses a kiss to his jaw, “-too goddamn much,” he hums, pressing a final kiss to the skin just below his jaw. Kepler tilts his head backward, exposes more of his neck to Jacobi. He takes the bait- he always does. He kisses down his throat, bites just under his jaw and along his jugular, and Kepler lets out the smallest groans. It’s a badge of honor for Jacobi- he doesn’t leave any bruising, they do have to pretend to be professionals at least; he does let the bites linger- it makes the groans roll longer. 

 

Kepler moves his hands from Jacobi’s hair- they ghost down his sides, to his waist and hips, and he palms Jacobi’s ass. Rolls his hips up again and this time Jacobi lets off a moan. His back arches so slightly, and he moans. That’s a good reaction- Kepler squeezes Jacobi’s ass and Jacobi whimpers- he leans into it, but whimpers still. 

 

“Good boy.” Kepler hums, rolling his hips up again onto Jacobi- this time, Jacobi grinds down onto him. Kepler groans- unabashedly, and lets his eyes close. “If I didn’t know any better,” he starts and Jacobi almost glares at him, “I’d say you want to seduce me.” Kepler’s grin is too cheeky- too full of himself and Jacobi hates it- the shreds of accuracy are burning and atrocious.

 

“Sir- I think you’re doing just- fine- on, seduction.” Jacobu huffs. He doesn’t like how red he is from- barely any contact. He’s not a cherry but he’s showing more than he’d like. Letting Kepler know that this works on him. He doesn’t quite mind- if this is going anywhere he’d think it is, then he’s willing to give more- but it’s embarrassing almost. He just- hopes Kepler won’t remember all of this later on and use it against him. Kepler’s smile is devilish yet again- if his teeth could point it still wouldn’t be demonic enough. 

 

“So you like what I’m doing?” Kepler purrs- Jacobi twists his hands up in Kepler’s shirt, braces himself against his chest and leans down to kiss him again instead of answering him. Kepler chuckles into the kiss- two can play at this game. He keeps one hand on the underside of Jacobi’s thigh and the other plants itself on the back of his neck keeping him down- keeping their lips connected until Jacobi’s trying so desperately to pull away for a breath. When he finally manages to wriggle out of his grasp- Kepler laughs to himself and Jacobi pouts. He pulls on the fabric of Kepler’s shirt and bites at his throat, cutting Kepler’s laugh short and bringing something guttural and satisfied from him. His hand tightens on Jacobi’s thigh and the other laces into Jacobi’s hair. Jacobi bites again, moving down his throat, nipping and biting, and Kepler groans so low in his throat it’s almost a growl.

Jacobi tugs again on Kepler’s shirt- if they’re really going to do this then- he should know what’s happening, know the language without having to be told what to do. After a moment of processing, he gets it. He let’s go of Jacobi and pulls his shirt up off of him, tosses it across the room, and goes back to what he was doing. As his hand finds another home in Jacobi's hair, he tugs on his curls yet again. Not too hard and not too light- closer to Jacobi’s sweet spot- he moans. That voice in the back of Kepler’s head is loud again, hissing mine over and over as he looks at Jacobi coming undone between his hands. What a beautiful sight. How lucky he must be to be the only one who can see it at this moment.

 

Jacobi leans into Kepler’s chest, lips trailing over and kissing skin and scars alike, eyes half lidded and his lips parted. He slinks down Kepler's body, grinding down on his hips and feeling proof of Kepler’s ever-growing- interest, in the matter. He can’t help but grin- a little breathless and arrogant knowing he’s done this to his boss who- seemingly can’t be touched. He coaxed this much out of him- he can’t stop now. Kepler hums, anticipation growing in the pit of his stomach as he waits for Jacobi to finally- get there. He knows what he wants and, the wait is just- too long. 

 

As he gets lower and lower down Kepler’s torso- he bites harder. Dares to leave bruises between his pecs and around his abs- there just might be a god out there. If Jacobi can manage to keep this then, there might be some higher power finally blessing him with something in this life. Kepler doesn’t try to hide his groans- he lets it happen, lets Jacobi put his mouth on him and take control for this moment. As he gets lower, one of Kepler’s hands stays in Jacobi’s hair while the other one goes behind his own head, relaxing himself really and truly as Jacobi’s bites get to more tender skin. He sharply inhales the moment Jacobi gets close to his hips- the skin a little too sensitive there- not yet desensitized to this particular sensation. It says something that a gentle bite makes The Great Warren Kepler shiver like it’s more than it is- but it also feeds something inside Jacobi’s ego and that simply takes precedence over how often Kepler gets laid.

 

Kepler raises his hips as Jacobi’s mouth nears his waistband, moans almost desperately when he bites harshly near his happy trail. Jacobi chuckles to himself, can’t help but imitate Kepler’s wicked grin looking up at him and locking eyes for merely a moment before he sighs a desperate  _ fuck- _ as he tilts his head backward. Jacobi’s almost too proud of himself for this one. He lingers around Kepler’s belt- he can see the effects he’s having clear as day- the tent that looks a little too tight on Kepler’s hips and is probably killing him- it’s so cute. 

 

Jacobi kisses around Kepler’s hip bones, bites down as he reaches the midpoint and leaves dark bruises in the area. He looks up again and Kepler’s eyes are shut tight, his lower lip trapped between his teeth and a little red tinging his face and neck. His forearm rests on his forehead as that hand balls into a fist and he moves impatiently, managing after Jacobi ceases to growl Jacobi’s first and last name. He groans and growls- is this his version of desperation? 

 

There’s a catch and release to this- Jacobi gives a little of what Kepler wants and Kepler doesn’t whine. He sits still like a good boy and Jacobi feels power over his commanding officer. It’s delightful- really. It feels nice to have him on a string like this- but it’s even better to hear him go through withdrawal when he ceases to lay kisses and bite or anything upon him. It’s entertaining to hear him growl and whine and huff- it’s adorable- but it’s playing with fire. He has to be careful not to get burned and lose the edge he has in this moment. Kepler wouldn’t hurt him- not too badly- he’d just expedite the process, take the control from Jacobi. So the game has to end- to his dismay. He unbuckles Kepler’s belt, jumps through whatever hoops he may be faced with to get his pants down around his knees.

 

And then- he’s faced with his bosses hard cock, bulging up through his boxer briefs. Size is- clearly not an issue with Kepler- he has enough and then some and- it’s a little intimidating at first- but Jacobi can not show weakness right now. He pauses for a moment, looks up at Kepler who’s glancing down at him- just to be sure he’s got his full attention. In his experience- it is more powerful to do something like this when he’s got someone’s full and undivided attention.

 

Jacobi hums and licks his lips a little reflexively, trails his tongue over the contours of his dick in his underwear, mouths over him and closes his eyes. He’s not exactly a showman- it’s why he’s got skill. He hums as he mouths around his cock, sucking every so often and only wetting his underwear and frustrating the hell out of Kepler. His eyes are wildly unfocused- but he’s trying to keep them trained on Jacobi. On every single movement that brings hisses and gasps from his lips and makes him buck his hips needing-  _ more.  _ Thankfully, Jacobi doesn’t keep him in suspense for as long as he did before. He has some shred of mercy for Kepler, and pulls his underwear down just around his thighs, moving slowly and catching the head of his cock in his waistband, chewing on the inside of his cheek as his eyes widen at the size yet again.

 

The waistband pulls free and his dick stands free- Christ this is- going to be a challenge. Jacobi takes a deep breath and doesn’t check to see if Kepler’s watching- he knows he is. Why wouldn’t he watch? Jacobi smirks as he drags the flat of his tongue up the underside of Kepler’s cock, wraps his lips around the head and sucks gently for barely a second before licking down partially, stroking him a little too slowly for his liking. He moves his hips- barely enough for more friction- but if he has to just barely fuck Jacobi’s hand so he doesn’t go stir crazy then so be it. Jacobi chuckles at the act- smiling that dumb lopsided smile of his- the one that says he has everything to say on the situation and this won’t progress until he’s said his piece.

 

“Look at you, Colonel!” Jacobi smiles almost too innocently. “Big strong man- butcha can’t even keep it together for a blow job-” He knows there won’t be any real repercussions- he’s gotten so close with his commander, and he’s got his dick in his hand- from Jacobi’s view he’s got all the power in the room- and he’s reveling in it. Kepler growls something- disjointed words that add up to a ‘get back to work’ and Jacobi simply tuts at him. “Commander-” he chides in a too cheery voice. “-is that anyway to promote productivity in the workplace?” He asks it like he’s a kindergarten teacher trying to drive a point home with his class. And Kepler absolutely hates it. 

 

There’s an irony in this- the roles are reversed and maybe Kepler finally knows how Jacobi feels- but- he doesn’t have to. In one swift motion, Kepler grabs Jacobi’s hair again and yanks his hair to pull his head up. Jacobi grits his teeth and hisses- huffs and glares up Kepler. He keeps eye contact with him and that dark essence crosses his face. Jacobi’s spine shivers but he keeps himself steady- show no weakness.

 

“Mr. Jacobi- you have just wasted your chance to do this your way-” there’s a slight pant in Kepler’s voice and Jacobi can’t help but think it’s hot. He really shouldn’t think it’s that hot- there’s a lot that he shouldn’t think is hot about Kepler but he still somehow, finds a way. 

 

“Sir-” Jacobi starts, and he can’t clock it but Kepler’s hand that once rested on his forehead now has two fingers in Jacobi’s mouth, prying his mouth open. His forefinger and middle finger rest on either side of his lower jaw and pull his mouth open with leverage from the hand yanking his hair back. He tries to fight against it- clamp his jaw shut- but it’s nothing too exerting or too serious. Oh no, he’s been caught- get on with it. Kepler grins that dark, shark like grin and Jacobi feels himself go weak. Anticipation knots his stomach up and if they could- his knees would go weak- it’s a little too much for him to handle.

 

“Do you think I should go easy on you?” Kepler asks in a voice too calm for how he just was. He spreads his fingers to stretch Jacobi’s cheeks. Jacobi mumbles something incoherent. Kepler snorts a laugh. “I’m sorry Mr. Jacobi- that wasn’t an answer.” He clicks his tongue- the closest he can get to a tut. Jacobi tries again to make something close to a sentence form but still fails at it. “Aww- that’s sweet,” Kepler condescends, pulling on Jacobi’s hair- just to try and crank his mouth open a little more. If Jacobi could pout- he would. Instead he rolls his eyes and makes a choked scoffing sound. Kepler doesn’t consciously have this thought-  _ i’ll give you something to choke on _ \- but he’s not refuting it or upset about it. 

 

Kepler runs his fingers over Jacobi’s tongue and he coos at how he doesn’t really protest the motion. It’s really endearing isn’t it? How Jacobi acts all bratty but when it comes down to it- he rolls over and takes it like a good boy. How sweet. Jacobi’s eyes, while somewhat glazed over seem to be fixated on Kepler’s- it’s adorable, but it’s not quite enough for him to take pity on his right hand. It’s not gentle when Kepler shoves his cock into Jacobi's mouth and down his throat- he chokes and gags and squeezes Kepler’s thighs a little too tightly. He heaves around this new action- new addition to his physiology- but can’t get back up. The hand that was in his mouth is now braced on the back of his neck and the hand in his hair is firmly laid on his occipital. He’s stuck squirming and whining around Kepler- who sighs in delight at it. 

 

A deep rooted piece of Jacobi feels his heart flutter at how he’s forced down- how he’s choking on Kepler and he feels something like guilt at how satisfying the feeling is. Everything from the stretch of his jaw, the sting of over-extension, the tight feeling in his throat- how he can barely breathe- it’s tantalizing for the moment at worst, and the thing he’d have wet dreams about for a good long while at best. He gags- of course he gags, he chokes and gags and he nose is pushed into a bruise on Kepler’s pelvis and as his brain takes everything in, his eyes start to roll to the back of his skull. For a moment- Kepler sighs this breathy sound, moans in what would be rapturous bliss but seems like a mocking form of it, and he presses his hips up to further lodge himself in Jacobi’s throat. A deep groan from the back of his throat and the top of his chest- rises up and for a second it sounds like gospel.

 

After a few moments of this pass and finally he’s allowed up. Thick strands of saliva joins his mouth to Kepler’s dick and he’s panting. He can barely breathe and he’s a mess of a man, eyes glazed over as he looks up at Kepler who’s smirking down at him.

 

“Having trouble Jacobi-?” He asks, and shoves Jacobi back down before he can even attempt an answer. The hand in Jacobi’s hair affectionately scratches at his scalp. He doesn’t hold him down as forcefully- gives him the room to bob his head and hum and whine around his cock. He can breathe- barely- and he still chokes on his cock. He doesn't need the ego boost- but Kepler still gets it. “Aww- good boy-!” He purrs, gently stroking Jacobi’s hair in this semi comforting way. If Jacobi could purr- he would- it’s not everyday something like this happens- and he damn well wants to enjoy every moment of it.

 

Kepler keeps his grip on Jacobi fairly tight for a few more moments- allows him more and more free reign to bob his head- swirl and flick his tongue around his cock slowly getting to the head and finally getting to take a deep breath with more spit hanging off his lips and roping down onto Kepler. He coughs into his elbow and the spit falls around his hands and mouth onto Kepler and it racks his body. He doesn’t take too much time to himself, and Kepler isn’t one to dwell on it. He does however, feel a pang of guilt for hurting Jacobi- but he doesn’t apologize. Just wishes that he could somehow- wordlessly- project to Jacobi that he wouldn’t hurt him seriously- that he cares so deeply it’s almost ingrained in his DNA. 

 

Jacobi works Kepler with his hands while his chest heaves and he catches his breath- or tries to. He doesn’t go back down- and Kepler doesn’t force him back down. Kepler sighs with his eyes closed- not in annoyance or any upset definitions one could apply to this. He’s delighted and almost enamored with the feeling- knowing the sight before him. It’s burned into his memory- at least he hopes it is. What a shame it would be to lose such a pretty sight to half a bottle of whiskey. Kepler swears under his breath and turns his face away- he can’t look at Jacobi’s face like that and stay idle. He swallows and beckons Jacobi to come up- come closer. 

 

He follows instruction- what a loyal man- and he’s laid on top of Kepler. This here- is a soft sight, something Kepler would love to see after a long day at work, something he’d love to wrap his arms around. Something he’d love to ruin- a face he’d like to see cry. Jacobi isn’t completely gone- there’s still the semblance of lucidity in his face. Kepler’s gentle when he scratches Jacobi’s head, his other hand trails down Jacobi’s waist and dips into his jeans. Kepler bites his neck, nothing too harsh, and he sighs, tucks his head into Kepler’s chest and wraps his arms around his shoulders. Kepler slides his hands into Jacobi's boxers and purrs sweet nothings into his ear, curls his fingers between Jacobi’s thighs and kisses his neck. He’s wet- and shivers away from Kepler’s touch.

 

“Look at you, Jacobi,” Kepler purrs, swirling his finger around his clit, “I’m not even fingering you- and you’re a mess.” He hisses, Jacobi moans a little too loudly when Kepler puts a little more pressure on Jacobi’s clit. Kepler teases around his entrance- swirls and relishes in the slick fluid starting to coat his fingers, delights in the moans he pulls from his subordinate’s throat. Jacobi arches his back just barely and whines under his breath- swears and bites his lower lip. Kepler hazards a short laugh and coos in Jacobi’s ear. Jacobi knows Kepler’s got big hands- he can feel it on him right now for fucks sake. He’s dizzy with anticipation of what’s to come. 

 

His middle finger slides inside of Jacobi and he whimpers. He moves his finger slowly, incrementally sliding in and out of Jacobi, grinning like the devil himself when he hears that wet sound. He’s not as gentle when he slides a second finger in. Jacobi gasps sharply, and clenches his fists for a second. He flexes his hands and his stomach and Kepler hums happily in his ear. Moving both fingers at a slow tempo at first- adagio, at ease, at his leisure. It’s not hellish- just a little more of the same unfair as before. 

 

He’s not too tight- he knows he’s not- Kepler’s just too damn big. The vague stretch of his fingers is nothing next to what might happen next- and that’s a little scary- albeit in the same way that teasing him and getting his throat fucked was scary- just that rush of what might be danger added on just for taste. Jacobi doesn’t mean to writhe on Kepler’s fingers like he does- he doesn’t mean to moan out like he does either, but Warren Kepler brings out the things in him he thought he’d hidden away. 

 

Kepler stays inside of Jacobi- but doesn’t move. So Jacobi has to move his hips up and down- grind on his fingers all on his own if he wants more than to feel full. It’s cruel and unusual punishment if you ask him. Isn’t it obvious that Jacobi’s been nothing but a good boy? He doesn’t deserve to be teased like this- he just wants to feel that release and maybe even get fucked in the process. Kepler can’t help but smile, watch as Jacobi fucks himself on his fingers. It’s almost adorable. He positions his palm in such a way that every time Jacobi grinds down on his fingers, he gets just enough friction on his clit to make him gasp and whimper- but not enough to get off. It’s never fair but- it feels good enough to let it slide.

 

Jacobi’s convinced this is what it’s gonna be. Fucking himself on Kepler’s fingers while the man himself coos in his ear- calls him pretty and says he’s taking this so well. But then the fingers pull out- he’s left with an empty feeling and whines automatically. Kepler’s hand pulls Jacobi’s jeans and boxers down- yanks them down and Jacobi takes the hint. He pulls them off and tosses the garments off the edge of the bed and straddles Kepler again. Before he can lay back on his chest, Kepler grabs him again by his throat. Keeps him upright as Jacobi straddles his hips and Kepler strokes his own cock. He’s just staring- staring at Jacobi’s pink, spit covered lips, at how his neck is vaguely bruised from love bites and how his thighs are just barely wet. It’s cute.

 

“Are you ready-?” Kepler asks, his voice thicker and huskier this time. Jacobi can’t think for a moment- ready for what? A shower? Bed? Maybe so. A beat passes and he looks down- oh. That- yeah. Okay that- he can’t manage a clear yes- his voice is a little fucked and he can barely breathe. So he just nods. At first- a little slowly- shyly, even. Then he nods more vigorously- making these little whining sounds in his throat and moving his hips like he’s too needy to keep still. Kepler laughs- short and dry, squeezes Jacobi’s throat again and watches his eyes flutter shut. 

 

He lets Jacobi lower down onto him- shuddering and gasping the whole way down. He doesn’t make it to the bottom- only about halfway down Kepler’s length before stopping short. His thighs shake around Kepler’s hips- nothing too dramatic, just a tremble here and there in his legs. He waits a moment, takes deep breaths and Kepler watches him with an amused look. 

 

“Can’t take it?” He coos, Jacobi pouts and shakes his head no. “You can?” He nods. Kepler hums a condescending sound and squeezes the hand around his throat in a playful gesture.

 

“Yes- yes si-sir,” Jacobi doesn’t mean to stutter- it’s not his strong suit- pretending to be fine- but that’s another story for another time. Not something he has to think about right now. All that Jacobi needs to think on is how he can slide down further. First- he needs to catch his breath. He whimpers and bites his lower lip, bounces his hips a bit and lets out little sweet moans. Kepler takes the hand from his cock and brushes his thumb on Jacobi’s cheek- a gentle movement- maybe he’d finally see the adoration Kepler has for Jacobi in his heart. Maybe then he’d see the lack of malice in all the little things Kepler does. 

 

He brings the palm of his hand to strike Jacobi’s cheek- it’s not hard enough to send him reeling or taking him out of the mood. It makes him moan out and shut his eyes. He sinks a little lower- biting his lip for a brief moment and squeezing his eyes shut. The sting spreading across Jacobi’s cheek brings him back to his center, brings him back to earth from whatever dreamy headspace he’d allowed himself to slip into. He grinds his hips down slowly- works himself over trying to bottom out. He tries to be nonchalant and move his hand from Kepler’s body to his own front- sliding down his abdomen to bring some contact to his clitoris- again. Jacobi rubs slow circles into himself and bounces his hips on Kepler’s length. 

 

Jacobi’s head tilts back and Kepler squeezes his throat a little too tightly, rubbing his cheek for a few moments before smacking him again and again. The immediate pain of his face stinging and the dizzy feeling in the front of his head pairs so nicely with the breath-taking sensation of Kepler inside of him and his own stimulation. He moans so loudly- tries to be loud, it’s choked and muffled but it’s not shameful- he doesn’t hide a single second of it. Kepler drinks it in- relishes in the sound like it’s scripture and commits every quivering sigh and trembling moan to memory.

 

For a moment Kepler gets bored, an idea wiggles into his mind and he realizes- he can expedite the process. He watches Jacobi bounce himself and his heart- feels warm. Somewhat full, with some cocktail of affection and sadism on the rise. He lets Jacobi try his best- fuck himself for a few more moments, try and keep some hint of control to himself, but- he can do better. And Kepler can help him do better- he always does. Kepler takes the hand from Jacobi’s face and drags his short nails down Jacobi’s back, digging in especially at the base of his spire then grabbing his hip. 

 

Kepler keeps Jacobi as steady as he can and fucks up into him. Bottoms out almost immediately with a heavy groan rolling from his chest as Jacobi sucks in a breath and whimpers in something close to pain but not quite that. He’s not distressed- it’s not horrendously painful, he’s more shocked than anything else. Dazed almost and unable to move too much of his own accord- if that’s his body in shock or Kepler holding him down he can’t tell. What Jacobi can discern is how coherent thought has left his presence and all he can parse out is how euphoric it is to be in this position. Filled up with a nice thick cock, being fucked stupid, it’s a wet dream come true!

 

Jacobi really leans into his new role- being something for Kepler to fuck and almost relaxing. He doesn’t put too much effort into moving- rubs his clit in lazy circles and moans out- swearing under his breath every so often when Kepler hits just the right spot and he can’t contain himself or doesn’t care to muffle himself and sound dainty. Kepler doesn’t hold back- flicks his hips up and grinds up so his pelvis puts pressure on Jacobi’s fingers as he touches himself and digs his nails into the flesh of Jacobi’s thigh as he presses down on the sides of his throat. He groans and growls from the bottom of his throat, that possessive voice screaming in the base of his mind that Jacobi is  _ his _ and his alone and his to see like this- his to have and his to keep. It’s loud and he revels in the thought- that he’s the only one that can reduce the high and mighty Daniel Jacobi to a weak moaning mess.

 

Jacobi doesn’t last much longer- he finds some burst of energy to squirm his hips- even with shaking thighs and unsteady breaths he works his hips and grinds his own on his hand and tries to get as much friction as he can. And Kepler can see him coming undone- see the knot release in his stomach and he sees Jacobi start to cum. He takes his hand from Jacobi's thigh and pulls Jacobi’s hand away from himself. Jacobi- in a vain protest of this interruption of his bliss- makes a whining sound that he doesn’t recognize. He whines and tries to protest, both hands clenching into fists as he bucks his hips, jerky and messy and cries out in desperation. He can’t help it- he doesn’t want to sound like this- all needy and desperate as he cums and jerks his hips.

 

For just more than a split second, Kepler feels like he’s cornered his prey- Jacobi looks so vulnerable and exposed as he rides out his orgasm, and Kepler feels the urge to sink his teeth into his throat and feel his pulse around his teeth, have his breath catch on Kepler’s tongue- he doesn’t act exactly on that. Kepler releases his throat and grabs a fistful of Jacobi’s hair and yanks backward- too hard. Jacobi makes a distant sound of pain and winces, swears under his breath and acts on instinct. Jacobi’s free hand reels back and without thinking he smacks Kepler across the face. The contact sounds like a thunderclap and Jacobi freezes in his tracks. He’s scared for a moment before Kepler moans- loud and satisfied and he bucks up into Jacobi, the red mark on his face blooming across his skin and his mouth parted. 

 

Jacobi’s eyes are blown out- he can’t quite focus but he’s still staring at Kepler. Barely grinding on him and, watching him squirm every so slightly. He’s proud of himself- yes, but he didn’t expect Warren Kepler of all people to moan- and moan like  _ that _ when he gets smacked. If he could- Jacobi would’ve recorded it- put it on replay. In his daze, Kepler’s hands both hold onto Jacobi’s thighs and he fucks up into him. He’s bound to leave bruises but- that’s just the result of Jacobi being his now isn’t it?

 

Kepler thrusts up into Jacobi for barely a few minutes more- drawing symphonic and rough moans from his and Jacobi’s lips before gently pushing Jacobi off of him and cumming on his thigh. Warm strands of cum stripe Jacobi’s inner thigh and for a second- he’s a little offended it feels so off-putting- it’s not deep, he’s over it as quickly as the feeling came. But still for some reason he’s just a little bothered by warm cum. They’re both panting- messy and catching their breath. The pain really sets in- the sting in Kepler’s jaw from getting smacked, the bruises all over Jacobi’s body- he’s sore and can’t quite think himself through the empty feeling of Kepler pulling out.

 

Moments pass in the panting silence, both of them glistening with a thin layer of sweat, trying to cool off even with their close proximity nullifying that much. They don’t really- look at each other, clean up what they can without saying anything because- what do you say when you fuck your boss? Nice dick? That’s- no. Just- no. But the silence is suffocating- it’s just too much for the two of the, but they’re both so stubborn they won’t say anything. At least not for a few long, heavy moments.

 

“Well- that happened,” Jacobi hums. His voice is rough and just barely raw, eyes wide as he comes back down to his normal self. Kepler throws a pillow at his face- not too hard, a little too rough for a standard human’s playful. He chuckles and tries to catch it- misses, tosses it back and crawls down to lay next to him. “-what? Don’t wanna cuddle?” He teases. Kepler groans and rubs the side of his face with his palm. He grabs Jacobi close to himself.

 

“Shut up,” He huffs, his already low voice heavy with sleep and husky as hell. “-go to sleep.” He tries to sound stern- like his commanding officer is giving him an order. Jacobi scoffs and rolls his eyes and lays on his side to face Kepler. They do fall asleep together- it’s more comfortable than the night before.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the first night of this event couldn't go better!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like everything i write after that whole sex scene is just kinda trash but yknow the show must go on!

If there’s one thing Jacobi and Kepler have in common- it’s the fact that they both hate wearing suits. Stupid tailored suits that Mr. Cutter personally ordered and bought for them to wear to this god forsaken event. The event- it probably won’t even be that bad. But the fact that they have to continue to be “married” and wear tailored suits that they didn’t even get measured for- it’s just a little too much for them.

 

Kepler just finds them uncomfortable- thinks the collars are- just odd and, not stiff but, restrictive- and most definitely not in the way that he enjoys. It’s not what he’s used to and he’d honestly rather be in his old military uniform. That feels more- natural here. Especially since he’s posing as an Air Force official- it’d feel more natural than this damn purple suit he’s stuck with. He looks nice- his mother would be proud. His jacket even hides the guns tucked under his arms- Mr. Cutter knows what he’s doing, and he knows exactly what he wants.

 

Jacobi, on the other hand, hates how he looks in suits. He hates how his shoulders tend to look just a little too small in the jacket and how- small it makes him seem- for god’s sake he spent enough time building up his muscle that he shouldn’t look too slim in this suit. And yet he does. Mr. Cutter really is a sadist. He can’t tell if he’s playing Jacobi in this- just stringing him along to throw it in his face later. It’s only a matter of time at this point. Might as well try to enjoy it for as long as he can. The suit- a dark navy blue three piece- isn’t the worst part. The worst part are the bruises he had to cover with cheap concealer moments before they arrived at the function. 

 

To an outside observer it would be easy to tell who’s more comfortable here- they can tell Kepler (though going by his alias, Torrance) looks more at home in this scenario- his arm around Jacobi, he ushers him around and regales the people around them with outlandish and tantalizing tall tales. Ones that Jacobi had no interest in hearing and has since turned the volume on his hearing aids down to almost silence everything around him. He’s not paying attention to whatever stories Kepler’s weaving that, could very well be real, (but he’s got a strong theory on it all being fake), he just finds himself tracing the rim of his glass and taking sips of his white wine. Easily- he could clear through a bottle. But that shouldn’t be a goal here. Self improvement doesn’t coincide with self destruction- or whatever. When his glass finds itself empty, he finds another to replace it.

 

Wandering off isn’t exactly a smart idea being surrounded by strangers and somewhat tipsy- someone could’ve found him out already. But if they did they aren’t doing anything about it so- does it matter? They sure as hell weren’t doing anything and there is more than enough around for a decent self defense plan. Jacobi doesn’t pay attention to where his legs bring him- he navigates through the crowd of scientists and military officials, private businessmen- he just slips through. Taking vague compliments about his clothes and dryly smiling in people’s directions. He shouldn’t be drinking again tonight. He’s gonna fuck himself up again- but it’s coping. Even if it’s not healthy- it’s coping.

 

The whole night passes too easily- there’s no friction and that feels downright unnatural to Jacobi. Something was supposed to go wrong long ago- but it hasn’t. And Jacobi’s standing on the outdoor patio- he won’t smoke- he quit that; but he didn’t quit standing in the smoke of other people- keeping light hearted conversation and letting the second hand smoke fuck his lungs like he’s had first hand. He’s well aware of the stereotype- self destructive gay man in love with someone who would never have him- and it’s partially why he’s out here. The less sad reason would just be to dissociate in peace and stare up at the stars while Kepler- Harlan Luckett, rather- could dazzle everyone while Alana did her thing. This isn’t really a job for him. He doesn’t need to be here, really. At least it feels like that. He’s not really a people person- not like Kepler is. He’s rough and abrasive and sure that could be charismatic but- not here.

 

He doesn’t need to dwell on that- he could just enjoy how the sky melted together and the colors- even the ones opposed on the damn color-wheel look so nice together- go so perfectly together. Enjoy how the rising moon looks like a silver platter and the stars look like pinpricks or- sugar granules. He’s got the capacity to be sweet- whether he’s trying to prove that to himself is still left to be seen. He knows he hasn’t been forgotten about- not completely. The server still came out and refreshed his drink- three whole times. What a doll. He shouldn’t have let them do that- he should’ve asked for a water. But he didn’t- he keeps his bad habits more fed than himself. It’s his trademark after all.

 

He shouldn’t be as surprised as he is when a pair of arms wraps around him- pulls him in close and kisses his neck. He physically jumps and the person backs off a bit- arms still around him but their mouth moves away from his neck. A familiar voice whispers in his ear.

 

“Are you okay, honey?” Warren hums in his ear, the smell whiskey carries on his breath, and Jacobi sighs, leans into him. Why the fuck does he have to be called honey? Why does he have to like, being called honey?

 

“Yeah,” Jacobi’s voice is low- cracks somewhere in that one syllable word and he kicks himself. They must be being watched- if Kepler’s here calling him honey and there’s not stinging venom in his voice- so someone must be watching. He lays one of his hands over Kepler’s and leans his head on his shoulder. “Just a little- yeah.” He hums, letting his eyes close. The proximity- the smell of Kepler’s body wash, his warmth, the barely there scratch of his stubble- it’s relaxing. 

 

“Wanna come back inside?” Kepler’s voice is low, gentler than it needs to be. Jacobi wants to get angry and yell- scream from the top of his lungs that this is a charade. But he just nods instead, stays quiet and feels dirty for some reason. Maybe it’s how he’s lying- no he lies like a pillow, it’s the hoax- how it plays on something he wants- it’s his own personal hell. This was made to punish him and he doesn’t know why- not that it matters anymore.

 

“Sure.” His voice is soft- a little clipped, but soft and Kepler keeps an arm around his waist as he’s lead back in. It’s no secret that Jacobi is the drunkest person at this exhibit show, he’s not wasted- wasted Jacobi looks miles different; he’s usually screaming something at someone and making a big show of something or another. This is just- tipsy Jacobi. Comfortably drunk, but drunk. He’s hanging on Kepler’s arm- it makes him feel sick. He shouldn’t feel this way- he’s always wanted this but he should be able to stand on his own. He doesn’t need Kepler here to prop him up.

 

Kepler keeps an arm securely on Jacobi’s waist- he knows better than to let him wander off like this and give people the wrong impression. It’s not exactly treating him like a child- it’s using precautionary measures. Making sure he’s keeping his agent safe. Nothing at all to do with how Jacobi subconsciously nuzzles his cheek into Kepler’s arm- it’s not that the motion isn’t adorable and this hand on Jacobi's waist is keeping that close to him. Never would he do that. Warren Kepler is dead- that person doesn’t exist anymore- he’s just his job. He doesn’t need personal connections or intimacy. Why would anyone think anything to the contrary?

 

It’s sheer luck that kept Jacobi’s face obscured for as long as it was. He washes his face in the bathroom- splashing some water on his cheeks so he could keep himself at the very least alert- and a man emerges from the stall. He gives Jacobi a passing glance- the kind of thing to greet strangers with and seem polite. But instead of keeping on his merry way- he pauses when he looks at Jacobi’s face. Really- looks at his features and this, prompts him to speak.

 

“Hey- excuse me,” He starts, tapping Jacobi’s shoulder, “are you- Daniel Jacobi?” He asks in a low tone with a smile on his face. Jacobi doesn’t answer, stares him in the face with a guarded expression, one hand tight on the porcelain edge of the sink. “Oh- sorry, I’m Luis Fowler,” He smiles and this time, there’s something snake-like in it. Jacobi turns to face him, leaning his hips against the sink and keeping a distance between the two of them. Fowler- sounds- familiar. But it’s also just a weird last name- so it could just stick out. His train of thought is broken. “You know- from Ohio?” He hums, and for a moment- he gets the reaction he wanted. Jacobi looks about as scared as a cornered animal, but half as dangerous, not helpless but not intimidating enough for him to back off. His throat is dry and the other man chuckles.

 

“Oh- yeah, Ohio,” Jacobi swallows- tries to, it vaguely hurts but- that’s the least of his issues. “How- how’ve you been?” He asks- play it coy, like you didn’t cause a hellfire to rain down.

 

“Well- I’ve seen better.” He starts, washing hands in the sink right next to Jacobi's, “But, I see you’ve done quite well for yourself- since, getting the team fired and, killing those two boys.” He smiles as he talks about it and Jacobi's blood runs cold. He feels trapped- like Fowler has a gun to his head and he’s up against a wall. He knows he can leave- he can do whatever he wants, but his legs are stuck to one spot and his chest is suffocating- the feeling is climbing his throat and he’s paralyzed. 

 

“I- didn’t kill them.” His voice is stiff- a little too rigid. His eyes stay trained on a spot on the floor and he hears the other man let off a short, snide laugh. It feels like something digging into his skin, shrapnel digging into his lungs. “If you were there- you know I didn’t kill them.” He finds some strength in these words- like they’re allowing him life to fight back. Luis laughs again. Short and cruel and curt.

 

“As far as I know- you wanted them dead.” Fowler hisses, he doesn’t look up at Jacobi, he scrubs his nails against his palms and Jacobi watches.

 

“Well- you’re stupid.” Jacobi huffs and wants to leave. He’s rooted to his spot and instead flicks the water off his cheek with the back of his hand and out of his hair. “I didn’t want them dead- I wanted the bomb to work-”

 

“It did.” Fowler interrupts and Jacobi goes silent. “A little too well.” His voice is sharp and Jaocbi feels himself wince. He knows he fucked up- everyone who knows him can see that he’s fucked up. But this- it’s cruel. “You’re not even apologizing.” He huffs.

 

“Why would I- it wasn’t my fault.” Jacobi tries not to yell- keep a cool head and he’ll prevail, etcetera. He didn’t put those two in the line of fire- he didn’t make the experiment fuck up- it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t- no he doesn’t kill people. His bombs kill people- he’s not Kepler or Maxwell- he can’t shoot someone between the eyes or slit their throat, he just arms the bombs and talks. That’s it.

 

“Their blood is on your hands- your bomb killed them. You killed them.” Fowler’s demeanor shifts dramatically- he’s looking at Jacobi in the mirror, his eyes so dark they almost look shadowy and his gaze digging claws into Jacobi’s reflection. 

 

“It was an accident-” Jacobi starts, “-it wasn’t anyone's fault.” He tries to sound final- like his knees aren’t shaking. “I didn’t kill them- they didn’t kill themselves- hell it wasn’t even some company coup- just drop it.” He tries to growl, but his throat is just too tight.

 

“Oh- is that what helps you sleep at night?” Fowler scoffs. “It’s no ones fault? Then why did you get fired?” He huffs. “It’s your fault.” He splashes the water off his hands and tears his eyes from Jacobi’s.

 

Jacobi- has libraries of retorts. All stocked up between the quips and remarks, right behind the rebuttals, but his voice doesn’t come when called. He stares, dumb, with a fire burning in his eyes. He wants to yell- and scream and convince him that this isn’t his fault- but that- isn’t an option. 

 

“Aren’t you-” Fowler chuckles- cruel and angry, “-aren’t you blackballed from- everything?” He grins- it’s sadistic. “How did you even find someone who’d l-” He’s cut off- Jacobi doesn’t know what exactly pushed him off the precipice of calamity, but his fist swung from his side and collides with the side of Luis’ face. Then again- and again. He’s grappled to the ground and his and Luis’ fists meet each others bodies and faces and their hands yank at each others hair, shoving their faces around to give space for headbutts and snarling attacks. The adrenaline in their veins doesn’t let them feel the pain- not really. It’s not the same reaction as a bomb set to explode in thirty seconds but it’s enough keep them going and ignore the soreness and bruising setting into their skin. Jacobis mouth bleeds and Luis’ knuckles split against his teeth- Luis’s eye goes purple and blue as spot on Jacobi’s forehead takes a blue tone.

 

The two of them switch positions- Luis kneeling over Jacobi and Jacobi over Luis- time and time again the power dynamics slide and shift around until Jacobi sits firmly on Luis’ torso. He deals blow after blow to his head, knuckles cracking and pounding on bone and flesh. Luis doesn’t move; his hands stay on Jacobi's shoulders in an attempt to push him off, but he doesn’t succeed- his arms go limp after a few more heavy handed blows. A stomach churning crack sounds as his mandible breaks against the hinge on his skull and sends fractures up his skull. Jacobi doesn’t stop for a few more moments- lays into him with blood on his hands and the cuffs of his shirt, all mussed up and disheveled, getting up after registering the moment. He took care of it. On his own. It’s sick- but it’s a point of pride. He did this on his own- his first kill if this counts and his demolition projects don’t. It seems fitting- symmetrical. He’s proud of it in the same way that he’s okay with blowing up hospitals.

 

He doesn’t think about it- shoves it off to the side like he always does. He just washes his hands- splashes water on his face, wipes the blood off his hands and lip and fixes his hair the best he can. This didn’t happen- there’s no lifeless man by his feet. He doesn’t wipes his fingerprints from the man's arms and face, he does not step over his corpse when he leaves.

 

Outside the bathroom- Jacobi doesn’t look like he got into a fight, genuinely. He just looks a little drunk with unruly curls on his head, a blush on his face, jacket slung over one shoulder and his sleeves rolled up. He’s sobered- painfully so, and looks for a waiter with wine or- champagne. Whatever’s available- he grabs a glass and takes a sip- it’s wine, again- and he goes back to find Kepler. He doesn’t need to know just yet- he can just- go back to being arm candy. Pretend this never even happened.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alana maxwell....that's it that's the chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this happens at the same time as the last chapter! keep that in mind!

Alana Maxwell didn’t care for the area she found herself in. It’s a little too uptight and she can’t spread her wings- she has to take orders from people above her. It’s her own personal hell- she has to agree with one of Jacobi’s many new drunken rants- Goddard Futuristics is run exclusively by sadists- and Warren Kepler is explicitly named as one of them. 

 

The area she’s in is too claustrophobic- she’s a damn intern for one of the coding programmers here and- it’s a nightmare. She left this behind for a god damned reason and yet- here she is, yet again. At least she’s here for a better reason than her resume- and there’s no real dress code. Just use common sense and it’ll be fine. The challenge here- is convincing this AI to mess up- to ruin the presentation on purpose. She has a few ideas- teach the AI how to deviate from their programming- put a bug in the AI or, even delete miscellaneous lines of code. That- is absolutely last resort. It would break her heart to drive some- poor AI who didn’t ask to be made to insanity. She may work for a shady corporation with grey morals but she has standards- at least half a set of standards.

 

It’s going to be- a challenge, but that’s why she’s here- challenges are her thing. She can handle this- whether or not this pep talk is specifically for Maxwell is yet to be determined- but it’s appreciated nonetheless. 

 

If she’s being completely transparent- the dress is a nice touch. It looks nice- the right shade of green to compliment her skin and form hugging enough to accentuate her waist but not feel suffocating or too tight- if there’s one thing Mr. Cutter has, it’s taste. The only annoying thing about her look might just be how she has to have her hair in a ponytail for some ungodly reason- and how her hair is just long enough to brush against her shoulders in the most annoying way known to humanity.

 

The party- should be going well. Party- is an inaccurate word, it’s just a fancy art hall for robotics and tech demos- the main event is tomorrow evening. Alana- along with several other interns a few years her junior, struggling through college are running last minute systems diagnostics and making sure that performing robotics programs run smoothly and doesn’t freeze up in some politicians hands- because that, for some reason is the end of the world to these people. They really will do anything for their funding.

 

Maxwell has to make her way to the AI’s hardware unnoticed- and that part is the hardest. She’s in a swarm of overworked and underpaid adolescents, and she sticks out just enough that they would most likely have questions if she were to- slip away into that room. Especially when she was assigned to keep some quirky updates-in-real-time GPS unit running smoothly. It’s below her pay-grade, demeaning, almost. But her in comes as a blessing in disguise- the dinner orders come in from several different places- a local pizzeria, a burger joint and a punjabi restaurant all have spreads in the main room. This- could be how she does it. 

 

Taking a plate stacked with pizza and garlic bread and one laid out with fries, she navigates through her colleagues who- seem rejuvenated by this which- is a little heartwarming but only as much as it is pathetic. She makes it to the room with the AI processor and the girl who’s been stationed here looks near exhausted. Her typing doesn’t falter, even when Maxwell makes herself known she doesn’t really look up from her work. She’s surrounded by disposable coffee cups and snack wrappers. Part of Maxwell wonders how much of her intrusion is for her own benefit or to help someone else- but that part doesn’t last longer than a second. She shakes it off and sets the two plates of food down next to this girl. 

 

“Are you- okay?” Maxwell asks in a gentle voice, pulling a chair up next to the girl and picking up a couple fries and taking a bite from the pair. She can’t really place the girl’s name- Joann Watts? Probably something to that effect. The girl- Watts- her concentration breaks and she looks at Maxwell- her eyes focus and unfocus and she’s startled for all of half a second. She goes to talk then sighs a little heavily, rubbing her eyes with the heel of her hand. 

 

“God- no,” She groans. “I’m god damn exhausted and- I have like three credits riding on this- god,” She sighs and looks from Alana to the screen then to her lap, hands rubbing at her cheeks. For a second Maxwell doesn’t know what to do- there’s a multitude of responses here and she needs time efficiency but- she never really was the type to leave someone wallowing in their own sadness- if the cause was worthy and the person undeserving. So she pats her shoulder and rubs small circles into her shoulder blade. Watts doesn’t move away from the contact- but she doesn’t lean into it either. She does, however, relax the slightest of bits.

 

“Hey- hey, take a rest, okay?” Alana makes her voice sound- softer, more comforting. “You deserve a break- I brought dinner for the occasion,” She hums, making a short gesture to the two paper plates before them. 

 

“No- I- I have to finish these diagnostics- I need to triple check everything-” Watts’ voice sounds strained, almost as if she’s on the verge of some big emotional reaction. Maxwell moves her hand to the center of Watts back and scratches her nails gently on her spine. Watts leans into that. Perfect.

 

“You, don’t have to finish everything if you look like you’re about to keel over and die,” Maxwell hums. “I know I’m not your mother- but you need rest. Fatigue puts performance at risk for any and everything- you know that.” Watts sighs- hard and heavy.

 

“I know I just- I need to finish- I need this to go perfect-” She tries to reason again, but Maxwell- genius that she is- cuts her off with one movement. She lays her hand on Watts cheek and brushes her thumb just under her eye, lets her fingers rest just behind her ear. She’s starstruck for a moment. 

 

“You’ll be able to finish in- thirty minutes, it won’t be the end of the world.” It’s hard for Watts to even focus on Maxwell’s voice- she knows it’s a mix of delirium and emotional susceptibility, but she can’t keep herself from staring into Maxwell’s deep brown eyes, reveling in how smooth her voice is- how she could listen to it for- as long as she could stay awake, really. “Just take a break, let’s have dinner,” She smiles and Watts nods along slowly.

 

“Yeah- let’s- let’s have dinner,” Watts mumbles and Maxwell takes her hands from her, and eats a few more fries, “what- what do you do here?” She asks in a small voice, using a coffee stained napkin to dab up the excess grease on a pizza slice.

 

“Oh- whatever needs to be done, really- I’m getting some, additional training to meet pre-req’s for my doctorate.” Maxwell lies- but it’s imperceptible. Sure- she already has her PhD and could run circles around some of these scientists, but this is stealth- and gloating is generally looked down on in stealth missions. For some reason. 

 

“Where do you go to college-?” Watts asks. Maxwell mentally swears. She has an answer to this and it’s not choking on her fries.

 

“Oh- I take e-classes at Stanford this semester- for- yknow,” Maxwell gestures around to the lab around the two of them, “this.” It’s a force of habit of hers to half smile at the end of it. Watts returns the gesture. “You?”

 

“Sierra Nevada- I didn’t think they had connections out here but- it’s really a great opportunity-” She sounds wistful almost, like she believes they’re really doing something here that isn’t just scut work, and part of Maxwell’s plan changes.

 

“Major?” Maxwell asks.

 

“Computer programming and coding- basically. Like building and maintaining the structure- you know this stuff, fuck,” She sighs and Maxwell giggles, “what- what about your- your major?” 

 

The two sit in this room- talking and eating, growing closer- it’s a casual conversation that Maxwell doesn’t really keep track of. She’s too busy running through her plans- figuring out how exactly to jump this next hurdle. How to get Watts out of this room for the rest of the night- or at least the foreseeable future. They do run out of food- and Watts takes maybe- two minutes to get more of whatever Maxwell wants. Not long enough- she may be a genius but she can’t get it done that quickly- so that leaves- locking the door from the inside and possibly blowing her cover or- somehow knocking out Watts. Great. Exactly what she didn’t want to do here. Things don’t get done when abiding by one’s moral code this strictly and it’s clear what needs to be done.

 

Maxwell takes the opportunity when she can- uses a decently heavy piece of tubing to knock Watts out when she comes back with water, catches her and lays her down on the ground with her head on a wadded up jacket. She doesn’t close and lock the door- that’s too suspect with all the people starting to buzz around hallways. So Alana just codes- communicates with the AI in the most secretive way she can, feel some special brand of bitter that the vocal component hasn’t been installed or- is just disabled. That would make this a lot less labor intensive than it is- but these things are part of progress- someone’s progress.

 

It takes- maybe ten minutes, convincing this Intelligence to let her patch in shortcuts and reroutes- excluding the information on it being detrimental to performance. The Intelligence is fairly sweet- a new being in this hectic world- what a better welcome to Earth then. Watts wakes up sooner rather than later, and Maxwell doesn’t stop her coding. This is going to take some finesse- damn.

 

“Hey- what- are you-” She starts and Maxwell glances to her, and speaks almost immediately.

 

“You passed out a little after you brought the water in- I guess you just needed a rest- so I’m working on this for you,” Maxwell speaks in quick succession and it makes Watts head spin. But so does just being awake, the dulled throbbing ache in her head only gets sharper.

 

“Oh- yeah?” She asks in a soft voice.

 

“Yeah!” Maxwell sighs, not tearing her eyes from the screen. “Go, back to sleep.” She tries to sound sing-song and pleasant but there’s a little hint of aggression- be that from the roll she’s on or this minor bump in the plan- it’s anyone’s guess. Watts doesn’t protest- it hurts to look around and she can only do so much when her head is swimming and her whole body is begging for rest. So she lays back and falls asleep to the sound of Maxwell muttering to herself and her colleagues chattering outside this room. 

 

When Watts does wake up- more coherent and less dizzy- Maxwell is done. She’s filled out reports and even quadruple checked the AI for efficiency; streamlined the processes that were redundant or took up too much space- and that was just for fun. Even if the bitter questioning at the back of her mind asked her why she helped something that was inevitably set up to fail- she smiled and sat with Watts, talked and let her lips brush against her cheek. Just to be startled apart by some intern who can’t hold his bourbon. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this happens like immediately after the events of events of chapter 6

Jacobi and Kepler collapsed into bed that night like nothing had happened. For Kepler- it went swimmingly! Jacobi had a hard time adapting to being in close proximity with so many people but they both managed in the end! That, makes a good mission statement and progress report- it’s a mental note he’s sure to remember for Cutter later on. It’s a win in his book, but it doesn’t explain why Jacobi’s so- cagey, distant. Why he’s not his usual self. For a while- Kepler chalked this up to how much he’d drank and what he’d drank- soft liquor does weird things to a man’s body after all. He wants to ask- to sit Jacobi down and have that talk, ask if he’s really and truly alright, but he can’t swallow enough pride to make that move. It’s pathetic, sure, but these things are- unavoidable when your ego is Kepler’s.

 

Jacobi- on the other hand, is trying to cope- or, not to, rather, with what he did. He can’t get the mans face out of his head- but he can’t cry. He can’t cry and freak out about it- not around Kepler. He took care of it himself and he can keep doing that- why is he even trying to prove this point- maybe to prove he doesn’t need Warren- to make himself believe that Kepler isn’t a necessity to his survival- he’s a big boy and he can cook his own meals and kill his own enemies. But even as he doesn’t talk about it- he has these little tells. He holds onto Kepler a little too long and keeps contact and- he hates it. He wants to stop and scream and yell- do something that isn’t soft. But it’s comforting to be with him. Maybe it’s what they did last night and how for some damn reason it makes him feel closer to people- human emotions are garbage.

 

These little tells are really going to be the death of Jacobi- knowing that Kepler knows when to brush the hair out of his face is a lot- it almost makes him want to leave the country, truth be told. Pick up a new alias and not have to confront his feelings- the escapist dream. The moment in bed doesn’t last long- Jacobi gets up after a few moments of Kepler’s hand gently resting on his head as he for once- doesn’t talk, and his head near the junction of Kepler’s shoulder and chest- just close enough to faintly hear the steady beat of his heart. It shouldn’t remind him of Fowler’s blood- it’s a heart, everyone has a heat, but the way his felt- going dead, stopping. It’s too tactile of a memory. So he gets up- walk across the room and looks for a mini-bar. Opens cabinets until Kepler's knee keeps one from opening. And Jacobi stands straight and looks him in the eye- there’s malice in his look and Kepler’s is blank- or unreadable. The two are practically interchangeable with him. 

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing-?” Jacobi's voice is biting, and he, glares up at Kepler- like he’s got nothing left to lose.

 

“Not letting you run up out tab and kill your liver in a weekend- what’s it look like?” Kepler’s surprisingly sober- or he sounds like it. He’s more sober than Jacobi- which, who isn’t at this point. His arms are crossed over his broad chest and Jacobi huffs. He tries to move around Kepler who boxes him in almost too easily. An arm on either side of Jacobi with his back to the counter. 

 

“Why- do you care?” Jacobi hisses through his teeth and glares up at him, a hand on either of his wrists. 

 

“Why do I care about your wellbeing?” Kepler repeats incredulously. He’s staring into Jacobi’s eyes and- it should be intimate and nice- but there’s a stubbornness in their looks and neither one is ready to back down just yet. “Have you lost function of your remaining brain cells Mr. Jacobi-”

 

“I thought I was your husband,” Jacobi spits the words- tries to make it sound as cruel as possible and Kepler’s jaw sets. He presses his lips into a tight line and for a moment Jacobi feels like he won. 

 

“Mr. Jacobi-” Kepler starts, and the words are long- he doesn’t draw them out but they sound like a soliloquy on their own, “-I care about your well-being, I care about you being alive and healthy. But I am your commanding officer, not your friend-- and most definitely not your husband. You will not, speak to me like that.” He starts to slip into that tone of thinly veiled anger- the stuff that makes Jacobi shrink into himself. Jacobi stays silent. “Are we clear?” He asks in a low growl of a voice, his knuckles going white on the countertop beside him. “I said, are. We. Clear.” 

 

“Yes- yes sir,” Jacobi swallows hard and doesn’t realize how his hands are shaking. Kepler doesn’t relax- he just shifts out of that tone and sighs. He goes to say something- go in for comfort- to be soft hearted- but he can’t bring himself to do it.

 

“Good boy.” He mumbles and walks away from the situation, goes to the bathroom. Jacobi’s hands still shake but he works up his nerve yet again. 

 

“Wait hold up-” Kepler doesn’t stop walking and Jacobi tails him, “-no- hold on-”

 

“What, Mr. Jacobi?” Kepler’s short and curt with him and stops dead in his tracks, glares back at Jacobi who keeps his spine straight. 

 

“How the fuck- can you just call me good boy and move on- what’s wrong with you-” Jacobi tries to force it all out- look Kepler in the eye. He doesn’t answer. Just stares in Jacobi's eyes for a moment with this steely glare- he’s building his masks up again- making the walls around his psyche higher and thicker. 

 

Kepler just walks away- like it’s nothing, like Jacobi, is nothing. And he takes a shower.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there's messy emotions the morning after, breakfast burritos and very hurt feelings, kepcobi the morning after the day of, it's gonna be messy but when are they Neat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so like i know dropping one chapter after 8 isn't smth to brag about but i think it's a testament to my willpower to say that this fic isn't going to be an unfinished idea afterall

It wasn’t fun- not for Jacobi and Kepler. They didn’t even share the bed- Jacobi slept cramped on the loveseat (it was too dark for him to tell which was the sofa and which was the love seat) and Kepler took the bed. It felt like a dare to walk into the bedroom and get a spare change of clothes or for Jacobi to even shower. He knows Kepler left to do- god knows what and he knows that he’ll come back cheery and upbeat and he’ll make Jacobi’s life a living hell. Or just exemplify that facet of his day to day.

 

Even when he’s not here, Kepler’s presence is overwhelming. He’s got Jacobi fucked up- perfect. Good to know that even the Idea of Warren Kepler makes Jacobi weak. That’s cool- that’s fine, he can deal with it. He can push through the presence of Warren Kepler and the smell of his aftershave and cologne- he can cope. It’s fine. 

 

Jacobi doesn’t know exactly how long he spends in the shower. It’s at least an hour- he spent a while just dissociating, staring into the drain; and the involved process of washing his mess of hair takes forty minutes at least. At least they aren’t in the California drought anymore. All he knows for sure is that enough time passed between him drinking half a cup of coffee and showering for Kepler to get back- dressed like a sporty teen with expensive sunglasses, with breakfast and coffees and, as per usual, he’s upbeat and seems like nothing at all happened last night. Jacobi tries to just brush it off- act like nothing happened; two can play at this game.

 

Half dressed and hair damp, Jacobi tries to act like Kepler isn’t there. Give him the silent treatment- pick up some hash browns his coffee (his heart warms up seeing that Kepler actually knows his order by heart) and takes a bite of the food. Loudly crunches on his hashbrowns and picks out the sandwich Kepler got for him. He wants to still be mad- Kepler remembered what he liked- to the point. I mean- why expect less from someone so militant as him- well, probably the whole idea that Kepler holds some sort of disdain for Jacobi and maybe he only wants to play some sadistic game of cat and mouse with his feelings. That would be in character- for him to just play with Jacobi- just until he’s not a person and he’s just a toy. Maybe that’s his real initiation into the high ranks of Goddard. Break a heart like an egg and suddenly there’s a seat in the pantheon waiting for him. It’s cruel.

 

With food and drink in each hand and his jeans hanging low on his hips, Jacobi goes back to the loveseat, plops down and starts to eat. He doesn’t express much- just keeps to himself. Stays conscious of how he expresses himself- he won’t be an angry child- he won’t let Kepler know that he’s bothered. It’s a foolproof plan.

 

It feels like a substantial amount of minutes that pass- but in reality, it’s been maybe two, two and a half if one counts time a little too quickly. Kepler can sit in silence, but he can’t let this pass so quickly. The only reason he didn’t respond immediately to Jacobi’s presence was that he had to send off a few texts- keep Rachel satisfied and get reports from Maxwell. He joins Jacobi- sits a little too close to be casual and watches for a second as he lifts his coffee to his lips. The dark curls of his hair look almost cherubic as they bounce around his face, and the sharpness of his jaw stands out as he swallows his drink. For half a second this is all Kepler can think of- and it’s distressing. He needs to focus. His gaze drops down to Jacobi’s hands and- he’s still wearing the ring. There’s a sort of pride in this- that even when he’s pissy- Jacobi is still and always will be- his. It’s touching- he kept it on- be it for the mission or the sentiment, it still warms the space next to Kepler’s heart.

 

“Jacobi-” Kepler starts and Jacobi doesn’t look at him, “-you can’t keep ignoring me like this.” He takes a sip of his own tea and Jacobi still doesn’t spare a glance at him. He just crunches down on his food and eats- drinks his coffee and acts like nothing happened. “Jacobi.” Kepler’s tone stiffens and Jacobi hesitates before he grabs his phone up. The corner of Kepler’s lips turn up. 

 

“Look-” Jacobi starts, tossing his phone onto the cushion beside him and setting his coffee down a little too roughly, “-I’m not ignoring you- okay? You can fucking- function without me- I can function without you-” His speech is almost uncomfortable- who he’s trying to convince is unclear. And Kepler looks shocked. Not too terribly so- just like he didn’t expect this answer.  He opens his mouth to speak and his mind tries to wrap around what this means.

 

“I mean- ignoring me is, pretending that I don’t exist,” He hums and unwraps his breakfast before taking a bite- while looking Jacobi in the next best thing to his eyes.

 

“You left me here alone.” Jacobi sounds indignant. “You couldn’t even tell me where you were going.” His voice is lower- closer to disuse.

 

“You said it yourself- you can function without me.” Kepler doesn’t mean to sound smug- or he does. It’s too hard to tell and he doesn’t bother differentiating at this point. “So I don’t see a problem, Mr. Jacobi.” He hums and takes another bite.

 

“But- we still- need to communicate.” Jacobi says it with a tight jaw. “As a team?” He grunts, eyes narrowed- sure there’s some anxiety buried in those irises, but the current motif is a thinly veiled almost bubbling anger.

 

“But I’m still here,” Kepler shrugs. “You never told me when you left me alone last night.” And that seems to strike a nerve. Kepler doesn’t really emote as Jacobi reacts- he doesn’t say anything at first and Jacobi’s guard builds back up and his movements are stiff. Kepler grins- a little devilish thing, the kind of grin to laugh about how he has him on a string.

 

“That’s different.” Jacobi’s short and he gathers up his things to leave the room- but before he can stand to leave, Kepler grabs his elbow- nothing too angry or forceful. He just keeps Jacobi still. He stays- like a good boy. It makes Jacobi almost sick- he should have the nerve to stand up to Kepler and stand up for himself but- his muscles go to Jello when they touch. Honestly- in his opinion, it’s his worst flaw.

 

“How, is it different?” Kepler asks in his too calm voice. He doesn’t let the emotion run up from his heart, never lets it break free from his ribs. “You still left me alone- didn’t tell me anything- what did you do?” He asks in an almost pointed way, and Jacobi jerks his arm away from Kepler’s grasp.

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Jacobi stays tight lipped, huffs and picks apart his remaining hash brown and glaring at the coffee table in front of him. 

 

“No, you know what I did- don’t we need open communication?” Kepler stays stern- keeps the framework of a more domineering tone- tries to coax this out of Jacobi in lieu of prying it from him.

 

“Fuck you,” Jacobi spits the words out. Kepler grabs his arm again- there’s a bruising force in his fingerprints and Jacobi doesn’t flinch away. He can’t help but imagine that force applied elsewhere under different circumstances and he grinds his molars together to get the thought out of his mind.

 

“You did that already, but that doesn’t answer my question, Mr. Jacobi.” Jacobi pushes his best fake laugh and Kepler isn’t as pleased. The words tumble around in his throat like a damn growl and he leans in- makes himself look intimidating and tries to act as a precise reminder of their sizable difference here. “What. Did. You. Do?” He asks in that stiff staccato and Jacobi jerks his arm away again. 

 

“Killed someone,” Jacobi says it so casually- like he’s joking. “Drank most of a bottle of wine and ended someone’s life.” He grins- it’s dark and cheeky and makes Kepler roll his eyes in this over exaggerated way. “Just your normal Thursday night! Nothing weird here.” Jacobi laughs it off or just- is casual enough that he feels like he laughs it off. Oh that wondrous way he has of minimizing everything about himself.

 

“Be serious for once in your goddamn life.” Kepler groans, glaring down Jacobi who- takes on this impish, playful look. Kepler hates that he can’t tear his eyes from Jacobi’s face and hates that he likes the playful look in his eye. This is serious he can’t have these soft hearted emotions at a pivotal time like this.

 

“I am being serious,” Jacobi hums, not happily- it’s hollow and emptied. But he still comes across as smug or rather- holier-than-thou. “I, killed someone.” Jacobi’s smile is bitter and sad, and only nominally such.

 

“And you’re just  _ now  _ telling me?” The anger seethes in Kepler’s voice and Jacobi can only nod. It does a lot to him- makes his blood run cold but makes his heart beat over time, raises his core temperature almost uncomfortably so and makes his knees cling to each other. It’s not his proudest moment.

 

“Is that a problem,  _ sir _ ?” Jacobi manages enough nerve or courage or stupidity to emphasise the last word in just the right way to make Kepler’s blood boil. 

 

“It is-” Kepler pushes himself away from Jacobi and sighs so deeply. For a moment- Jacobi feels guilty. Putting stress on someone he cares about- even if he doesn’t spare him the same thoughts or- regrets. “What in hell possessed you to just-  _ kill _ someone.” He doesn’t ask- it’s a demand for an explanation. 

 

“I don’t probe you like this when you do-” Jacobi still sounds indignant- like he’s searching for any dig he could possibly get in. Kepler almost growls at it. “-I’m pretty damn sure you’ve killed people for like- fun- you could be a serial killer for all I know-” Jacobi starts to ramble- his speech takes on speed as he does and before his tongue can break the sound barrier, Kepler interjects.  

 

“I am your _ superior officer. _ I do  _ not _ answer to you and you, should  _ know this _ if you have even  _ two brain cells _ working together, in that  _ dank cavern _ you  _ dare _ call a skull.” Kepler’s voice is angrier- a dry rage that could swallow Jacobi whole. But doesn’t really flinch away. Jacobi just sighs- heavy and defeated. This could be his last moments on earth so- might as well confess his sins.

 

“Fine- whatever,” He groans, leaning back into the couch. He hates this- feeling like a child being scolded by a teacher- not even a parent, he doesn’t get that intimacy anymore. It’s the worst- he despises the feeling- how it feels small and helpless. “It was someone- who had something to say about,” He pauses and, sighs, “Something, to say about, an incident, that I thought I left in the past- a good few years in the past. But,” He sighs, rubbing his bicep, “I guess not.” His smile is bitter and sad and defeated- he knows he shouldn’t have said this all and has to keep the voice inside him screaming to run and shut up down and content. He can’t let him know- it’s something between the same feeling of a scolded child- choking on that guilt and the deprecation that comes almost as immediately as his explanation. He overreacted. Blew up and flew off the handle and did it wrong- compromised the mission and ruined everything. 

 

Kepler doesn’t speak for a moment- there’s a myriad of emotion he has to cipher through. There’s some mental gymnastics- a threat has been eliminated neatly and discreetly, but the party is small enough to notice one missing person. Jacobi handled it well in the moment but he’s cracking apart now, he wouldn’t last long if he were put under more pressure than he is right now. Okay- some things are fixable- people don’t tend to start missing person searches after what- twenty four hours? So they have just enough time to get in, make sure the sabotage goes on without a problem, extract Maxwell and leave- easy enough. Then- the emotions demand to be poured over- there’s that hint of fear- what if something happened to Daniel? What would he do- he won’t lose him. That’s for damn certain. He wouldn’t lose him- he wouldn’t lose Maxwell either- he has plans and contingencies to keep that nailed down. Is he proud? Partly. Thinking of Jacobi handling this- is it a little hot? It would’ve been quite a sight to see him beat a man to death with his bare hands. That’s not important right now. That can wait for another time. He can’t tell what he’s feeling but it’s not anger. It shows on Kepler’s face. Jacobi doesn’t shrink away, but he looks concerned- can’t place the kind of fear that follows when Kepler doesn’t look upset. It’s exactly like the calm before or after the storm- he’s unsure of whether he’ll have a rainbow or a hurricane when Kepler speaks again. It  _ feels _ like the calm before the storm- the silence before a bolt of lightning smites someone down.

 

“Sir?” Jacobi asks- the indignance melted away from his voice and replaced with a vague fear. Kepler grins- it spreads slowly across his features and the fear magnifies in Jacobi’s chest- tightens his throat. Kepler claps him on the back and rubs his shoulder- like a proud father. It’s not at all what he expected- he’s dumbfounded with the action.

 

“Good job, Mr. Jacobi,” He hums- and his smile doesn’t fade. He pats Jacobi’s back almost affectionately and Jacobi tenses under his touch. He doesn’t mean to- it’s nice and affectionate and very much in the good direction of how this conversation could be going. But it feels- just a little off putting; like the one thing Jacobi needs to do is keep himself from developing a false sense of security.

 

“Good job.” He repeats it in disbelief. How in the hell was this- a good job. What the fuck was Kepler thinking- what’s he possibly got in mind? How the fuck is this  _ disaster _ a good job?

 

“Of course- you eliminated a threat to mission security and took care of it in a timely, neat, and presumably, organized manner.” Kepler’s practically buzzing with some breed of joy. It’s morbid and they both know it- it would be off putting to anyone who wasn't them but- it’s their trademark. 

 

“I left him bleeding out on the bathroom floor.” Jacobi’s blunt and forthcoming about it, doesn’t try to beat around any bush, and Kepler doesn’t deflate- even for a moment. “That’s like- the antithesis of neat.” Kepler shakes his head.

 

“It’s not neat- but I had no idea you’d actually killed someone- you, my dear-” Jacobi’s heart skips a beat, “-have an alibi on the off chance anyone finds out what you’ve done. Good planning.” Jacobi goes to deflect the praise but he can’t bring himself to actually say anything that could even remotely change Kepler’s mind. Great. 

 

Instead of saying anything more on the matter or even just to dodge the possibility of digging his own grave even further, Jacobi just sinks into the cushions. He wants to say something- argue for why he ruined everything and shouldn’t be here and talk about how he is completely unnecessary to this mission but he can’t find the energy to. He pauses and glances at Kepler- as pleased as pie- what an odd saying- is it even a saying? Then he shifts to lay his head on Kepler’s shoulder. Kepler’s pauses for a mere millisecond before going back to whatever he was doing. Something on his phone- probably ratting him out to Young. What a cuck. Jacobi nestles in deeper.

 

It’s hard for Jacobi to stay entirely mad as Kepler takes his own leap of faith and wraps an arm around Jacobi’s shoulders. It’s not bad- he’s warm and his presence- though he’d never say it to Kepler’s face- is comforting, in the same way a massive rottweiler wearing a spiked collar is- but only when you know that said rottweiler doesn’t have a mean bone in his body or that the only way he’d attack you is with love while everyone else could bear the clamp of his jaw. Kepler can’t say he hates the development- sure it hinders how he has to type but- it’s fine. It’s comforting and comfortable and, he wouldn’t rather anyone else be half asleep on his shoulder. He doesn’t need to disturb Jacobi- not right now. So he just holds him, rubs his shoulder and strokes his hair for a brief moment. Agents perform better when they  _ aren’t _ at their wits end after all. This might be the closest he’d get to something more loving than a  _ good boy _ or,  _ good job _ , maybe.

 

It’s comforting- being here- with him. And it shouldn’t be. They should be professionals- work side by side- be comrades, not- whatever they are. The power imbalance is more than apparent and it can only end poorly. That’s the idea now- sort of follows the opposite reaction theory- that something so fueled by passion can only end in something equally as intense. Heartbreak, fallout- something that would be near impossible to recover from. High risk, high reward. It doesn’t have to end like that- but mix gunpowder with an open fire and the result isn’t always pretty. They need work and they both know they can’t keep going in this awkward don’t ask don’t tell phase. Something’s gotta give somewhere along the line.

 

Kepler doesn’t mind when Jacobi gets a little closer- he squeezes his arm around his shoulders and his heart skips a beat when he lets out a contented sigh. Fuck, he’s in deep.


End file.
